


Emissary from Another World: The collected diaries of Dr. Gaius Baltar

by hw_campbell_jr



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Bromance, Colonization, Ethics, F/M, Oedipal Issues, Sexual Content, farming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-24
Updated: 2012-04-25
Packaged: 2017-11-04 06:43:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 108,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hw_campbell_jr/pseuds/hw_campbell_jr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are, or were intended to be when I wrote them in 2009, Gaius' diaries written after the end of the series, on New Earth. He lives with Caprica, they farm and make babies together. However, they are not the characters, and nor are they in the political situation, to live happily ever after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Conceptual Artist

**Author's Note:**

> What I intended was, using Gaius, to make the argument that there's no separating the narrative "resolution" of the Oedipus Complex, and the narrative of patriarchy, and the narrative of colonization. And despite BSG presenting that narrative as noble or at least redemptive, I disagree that it is - what we're talking about here is "what it means to be a man," after all, and I'm sure we can all agree that what it means is inevitably a little vexed. 
> 
> I remain unsure as to whether I actually wrote about that disagreement or just reproduced the thing I wanted to examine.

 

 

For the sake of argument, let's call this 1/1/1

 

C. has asked me to do this. Her opinion is that it will give me something constructive to do in the evenings. I'm not used to thinking of writing as constructive, but I follow her line of reasoning in that it is, at the very least “creative” in nature. She says, she thinks that creating something else is what I need to do. Her opinion is that it was fine for a while, when we were building and setting up the farm and helping with the village, but that now I have (her words) “left-over brains”. So I need to do something. Here we are: Something. I am writing something. I have nothing to say and am saying it. I'm sure that's a quote from somewhere.

 

2/1/1

Just list what you do, she said, to start with. She was annoyed with me, or at least she seemed annoyed. I think she is tired of me. I wouldn't mind having the ability to shut off my extra functions. I would like to think less, in general. It seemed so idyllic at the start.

Here's what I did:

Checked and weeded vegetables.

Repaired damage to irrigation.

Turned over compost.

Built cover for well.

Thought about transplanting trees to save the walking.

Thought about F.

Drew plans for smokehouse.

 

This is ridiculous.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5/1/1

What I want is a cigarette. Just one cigarette.

And a drink. I'm going to build a still.

 

6/1/1

C. seems agitated. I don't know what the problem is and I realise that I don't actually know how to ask her. Time for honest reflection: the reason for that is, I have the problems, and she does the comforting. Quite selfish, really, on my part.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

8/1/1

In the end I decided the best way was to just tell her what I had written. So I did. She cried.

Funny, of all the awful things that we've done to each other, New Caprica hurt her the most. I should have known that, but I didn't. Because I wasn't paying attention. Last time we talked about it, everything was about me and how much right I had to be angry with her then.

 

It isn't that hard to listen, actually. It really isn't that hard. It's certainly not as hard as my frakking head. I'm not angry with her. I'm angry at myself. 

 

So: she thinks a similar thing is happening. Because I'm bored. Because I'm not happy with her. But I am! Or, I wouldn't be happy anyway.

 

She said she misses having a divine purpose. I think I do too.

 

It's not enough just to love somebody.

 

9/1/1

 

I didn't write this yesterday, but she wants a child.

 

I have given this a great deal of thought and I have decided it would be alright.

 

10/1/1

 

What was I thinking?

 

I can't sleep. I keep dreaming about Felix. I know what happened, but the real truth is that I killed him. I was the one who broke his heart. Everything that happened after was immaterial.

 

I have no business having a child. Whatever is wrong with me should die here.

 

11/1/1

 

Last night was awful.

 

I was up, obviously, writing. I didn't write very much in the end, but it took me a long time. I let the lamp burn, mostly because I liked looking at it, and I suppose the light woke her up. I apologised and told her to go back to sleep, but she said she was up now anyway and was going to have tea. She asked what I was doing and I said, writing, and she seemed a bit pleased. She also seemed very tired, which, I suppose, is hardly surprising. There isn't a watch or a clock, but it was obviously late.

She sat at the table with me for a while. We haven't been physically close lately.

 

Then she said, does the writing help? And I said, a little. And then I told her. I tried to be honest and I tried to be kind, but it didn't work, because it made her cry. She actually doesn't cry that much – she's not like me – but I have made her cry twice in as many days. This was messy, too. They were bad tears. She looked horrible. I tried to put my arm around her, but she wouldn't let me. 

 

This was when she told me that she couldn't do this any more. I said, what? And she said it again in a manner that made it clear that “this” was me. Or rather, living with me, being with me.

 

I thought this was really unfair, so I said so. It isn't as if I haven't done anything – I more or less built the farm, not to mention a good deal of the house. But she said she didn't care, and that she couldn't do it, and that she was going to leave me. She wasn't angry. She just cried.

 

I got angry then. Because I am, actually, an awful person. I got angry and I told her that she should have told me that the child was a deal breaker. She said it wasn't. She said it was what was happening to me, and that there was no difference between right now and New Caprica, and I said that yes there was, because she wasn't there with her people manipulating me to enslave mine.

 

I wish she'd thrown something at me then, or hit me over the head because I kept talking and it got worse. I'm actually ashamed to write any more of it down. I suppose she had a strength of purpose behind all this, though, because she stayed calm(ish) and eventually she said, again, that she missed having a divine purpose. So I said “you think you're the only one?”

 

She said, “I made you my divine purpose, Gaius.” I said that I had done the same for her. She said I hadn't, and she said that she shouldn't have. She said that it wasn't loving me, but saving me, that she was using to replace that purpose. Saving me from, presumably, myself. She said she didn't want to any more. 

 

We were silent for a long time (mercifully, on my part, probably) and eventually I asked her where she would go. She said the village to stay with some other sixes and this seemed reasonable. But, of course, I don't want her to go, and I told her that.

 

She said she didn't know what else to do. And by God, she really meant it.

 

My whole body felt like it was made of ice. I wanted to do something kind for her. Something small, even make more tea, but I couldn't move. I said, there must be something I can do to fix it. She said, no. Because what I really had to fix was myself.

 

She didn't leave, in the end, but I think she will sooner or later. We talked for a long time, and it was mostly about that – about me, and about the fact that I feel guilty for everything that's happened. She says that it is eating me alive, and for a long time she was content to let it eat her too. She no longer is.

 

I tried to make love to her, but she wouldn't let me touch her. How dare she? She was the one who made me give her the codes. I think I hate her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

13/1/1

 

I have been in bed for a couple of days. Today, I got up, and there was mould on the tomatoes. It seems virulent. I do wish I had a stronger microscope, but the better one only worked with electricity.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

15/1/1

 

We haven't spoken since the 10th. Not really. A few words in passing, about the farm, about the weather (NB: clay pottery? We're going to need some process by which to preserve vegetables.)

 

The silence is starting to become oppressive, but I'm afraid that when I talk, I'll say the thing that makes her leave.

 

I think I might have fixed the tomato problem.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

17/1/1

 

Today, when I was out back with the trees (I think the apples can certainly be moved), C. came out with lunch. She used to do that every day, actually.

 

She asked me how I was feeling, which I thought was awfully generous of her, considering, and I told the truth: awful. I was – I am – terrified that she was, in fact, going to leave me.

She asked me why I would even care.

I got very angry then and shouted at her, how dare you ask me that? or something equally gallant. I don't know how she puts up with me and I think I am starting to see what she means about everything. I think I, Gaius Baltar, am a job of work. I did eat the lunch, by the way, and a lot of care had gone into it.

 

So, when I went in in the evening, I told her that I would care because I loved her. She said that she loved me too, and I tried to kiss her. She wouldn't let me. So I started to cry and then she said that this was one of the problems – that I loll around in self pity instead of doing anything, instead of fixing the problem. This is unarguably the truth.

 

So I said, how was I supposed to fix it, and she said that she didn't know, and that that was the point: that she was dog tired of being the person who had to fix my problems.

 

She is so beautiful. I forget that all the time, because I'm used to her. But she is - stunning, in fact. Her hair has started to grow now, even. I didn't think it would, but it has.

 

After a while, I said that I was sorry and that she was right. She asked me what I was going to do about it. I didn't know. I still don't.

 

She'd made dinner too. She does that every day.

 

18/1/1

 

C. has gone away for a few days. Probably for the best.

 

19/1/1

 

~~Dearest Caprica,~~

~~I am sorry to leave you with such a mess. Please know that none of this was your fault, and I never wanted to hurt you.~~

~~You were the only person I ever loved, and loving you~~

Selfish, selfish, selfish, selfish.

 

20/1/1

 

This is what it would be like without her, then. I'd be completely alone.

 

I spent most of today building the smokehouse. I think it will be quite good, actually. The real trick is preservation, as with the vegetables. It didn't get really cold here, last winter, but there are still times when things grow better than others, and there are always times when one can't get a deer (or whatever they are.)

 

What I would really like are some spices. I don't know where or how to procure those, but a little trial and error should bring something workable to the fore. Since running out of cigarettes, my sense of smell is stronger (which would be wonderful, if it weren't for the fact that so many things actually smell awful.) There's something supremely comical about imagining myself wandering around sniffing leaves.

 

21/1/1

 

My eyesight is getting worse and my glasses aren't helping. I'm going to have to start writing larger, though I don't like that as it wouldn't be as neat. Because that really matters. That is the sort of utter shit that matters to me. Because I am a shallow, selfish, vain, wretched man. Because I drove my wife away, as if everything else I'd done wasn't enough.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

24/1/1

 

I didn't know what else to do, so I was reading over what I've written. I realise that on the 21st, I referred to C. as my wife. This is, unarguably, what she is (or was), and I wonder if she would like a wedding. That's ridiculous, though, because there's nobody to come. Still, I should give her something, if she comes back. Something that indicates that I have married her, in my heart, if she wants it.

 

I never thought I would get married. It was the last thing I wanted – I always thought it was stupid. My father believed in it, though, and I suppose so did my mother. But I suppose they were right about that, as they were about everything else. Especially me.

 

It is remarkably beautiful here, and I am, actually, proud of the farm.  I think Laura Roslin was like my mother, or, like my mother would have been if she had been from the city. Tough, but calm.

 

I know they both thought the same thing about me: that I had a lot of potential and I wasn't living up to it.

 

25/1/1

 

I'm giving this up. It isn't helping. I keep thinking about Felix and I just want to die.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

30/1/1

 

I, Dr. Gaius Baltar, (Ph.D, MD) have committed the following crimes:

  1. I gave the access codes for the Colonial Defence Network to a Cylon agent. I am now married to her. Several million people died as a result of that action.
  2. I lied continuously about matters that put the Colonial fleet in danger.
  3. I ran an election out of spite. 
  4. I held public office without giving a flying frak about it. 
  5. I signed my name to a death list, and much else besides. Five thousand people died under my care. 
  6. I manipulated my way out of any retribution for the above.
  7. I told a lot of people a lot of crap about God. It might have been the truth, but the point is, I didn't know either way.
  8. I destroyed Felix Gaeta. And he loved me, the frakking fool.
  9. Caprica Six was equally foolish, and equally rewarded. 



 

I almost had sex with Felix, once. Thank god I didn't do that. What I did was bad enough. He was an idealist before he met me. I will feel responsible for that until the day I die. Because, of course, I am.

 

Oh yes, and:

10.  I told my father I hated him. Several times. And every word was true.

 

Fighting at the end doesn't really make up for that. I don't know how I'm supposed to get over it, because I shouldn't. Because I really shouldn't. Because I don't deserve her and I don't deserve to make a family.

 

I might have had sex with Felix, once. I don't actually remember.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

7/2/1

 

There was a conceptual artist whom I met on Caprica, before the fall. He said he was married to his tape recorder, and he called it his wife. In the absence of my actual wife, I suppose I am married to this book now. Hello, book, do you take this man? Very good, then.

 

I found something which I think will be a spice. It smells like pepper. I've never been a great cook – a bloody awful one, actually, so I tend to eat meat and some cooked vegetables and I'm getting bored as hell. Also, C. did a lot of work. She made all the fat for the lamps, for example. I haven't bothered to do that for a while, but that's alright. I'll go to bed when it's dark.

 

I'm trying to figure out if there is something more redeeming in this subsistence level living than there was before the fall. There is a part of it that does – or did – make me feel spiritually better, but sometimes I think that they're equivalent. My problem is that I think too much, and the thinking really is kind of surplus to my situation. The first year, working a lot made me tired, and I didn't think so damn much, but then it just came back, like a weed (NB: weed the damn vegetables!) I wish there was a way not to think.

 

8/2/1

 

Something remarkable happened last night. I saw Lee Adama. He came to visit, of all people. Of any people, actually. If anyone had come, I would have been grateful, but I was surprised that Lee would bother, or want to see me. I suppose he simply wanted to see someone from before. Someone who knew everything that had happened.

 

So, obviously, I had to tell him about C., and he was compassionate. I knew, of course, that his wife had left him too, and then, eventually shot herself, after Earth. I had suspected, though I hadn't known, that she had left him because of my trial. So I suppose I can add that to my list:

11.  Broke up Lee and Anastasia.

 

I apologised, but Lee told me not to bother. He said he was grateful for the trial because it had taught him who he really was. I wasn't going to say anything but then I commented that those skills were really kind of surplus now. He agreed. He said he thought too much too, but that he had seen a lot of this planet now and he was grateful for that. Remarkable. Really. He missed Anastasia, and he said he knew how I felt. I doubt it. He is a considerably better person than I am, so he probably feels worse.

 

We talked for most of the night, mostly about old times. We both laughed a lot, which surprised me. Obviously, I put him up for the night. This morning, he has commented favourably on the farm, and somewhat rudely on my new wife.

 

9/2/1

 

Lee has helped me catch and strip two deer (or whatever they are.) His knife work is better than mine. He says he was taught, in his travels, how to do it. The person who taught him did so without speaking. “I haven't met anyone who can speak,” he told me.

 

He is leaving tomorrow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

15/2/1

 

~~the sun is golden like~~

~~her hair~~

~~  
~~

~~light through leaves~~

~~in golden lines~~

~~  
~~

~~sunlight through leaves~~

~~and hair over her face~~

~~  
~~

~~sunlight through~~

~~leaves like~~

~~hair~~

 

sunlight through

leaves like hair

over her face

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

22/2/1

 

shadows and

shadows and

dusk

 

NB: Firewood.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

29/2/1

 

This pattern:

<> <> <> <> <> <> <> <> <> <> <>

  <> <> <> <> <> <> <> <> <> <>

<> <> <> <> <> <> <> <> <> <> <>

 

Why bother making a pattern at all? I do wonder that. Really, the jars just need to be functional, but they may as well be beautiful too.

 

Hello, my wife. Did you like the poems?

 

30/2/1

 

Read back over the last few entries. Worried that I'm going a bit crazy. Suppose it doesn't really matter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

7/3/1

 

Can't think why Lee is still in the area. I offered him a bed for the night, but he refused. He said if he rode fast, he could get to the village by nightfall.

 

Riding fast reminds him of flying.

 

Lee might be a bit crazy too.

 

 

8/3/1

 

Tempted to go down to the village myself to see about my other wife. If not back by Solstice, assume the worst.


	2. Something Happened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babies, PTSD, masculinity.

30/5/1 

 

C. is having a lot of ups and downs, moodwise. She is still getting sick, so I suspect she is probably about 2 and a half months gone. She looks good – healthy, and well coloured, but I wish she would let me take her to the village to be looked over by Doctor Cottle, since I am far better at people's more minuscule components than I am with their day to day bulk workings. I'd like to have a scan, too, but I doubt there is one on the planet. Her blood-work is fine and looks healthy, but I wouldn't mind introducing a little more calcium. I wonder if the deer will give milk?

 

She won't go, though, to the village. She says she'd rather not know. I think she still thinks about the time she miscarried. She cries a lot, but she says it is hormones. She has also been doing a lot of cleaning.

 

I wish I could say I was happy about all this, but, of course, I feel conflicted. Sometimes, though, I look at her and it is as if everything makes sense. It is nice to do things for her, and I try to remember. I won't let her do any heavy work, obviously. Not until the child is born. I know she is stronger than me, but this is immaterial. I'm not that feeble any more, and she is a precious vessel. I suspect she likes this, me thinking about her on those terms and treating her that way. Which, honestly, is fair enough, really.

 

I also wish that it was like it had been, which it isn't. The first few days, about two and a half months ago, it seemed like it might be like that, that we might find something similar to what we used to have. It was all very passionate and emotional, and that would be, it goes without saying, when I got her with child. It was amazing, actually, coming inside her and knowing what the outcome could be (and was.) It was better than any feeling I'd ever had, because I really loved her and I really wanted to make something out of it, out of that love. Holding her afterwards, I willed it to happen. She smelled wonderful. That's the good part of smelling.

 

I told her everything, too. That I called her my wife (and, please, don't think I'm being unfaithful!)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4/6/1

 

C.'s tits are about twice their usual size. She was fairly well proportioned anyway, so she looks like a porn star. Nobody at this end is complaining.   

 

5/6/1

 

What I wish is that there would be one moment, one decision, and then after that everything would be alright. It's always like that. I always make the decision and I feel resolved, and then I start to think of all the ways that it won't work and that it is hard.

 

Because, the thing is, it is really hard for me to change. I'm not doing that well at it. I shouted at her last night, and she hadn't done anything. She just wanted to know what I was thinking. I wish she wasn't so scared of me.

 

I think it would have been better for her if she had stayed gone. It might have been better for me. At the very least, it would have been an appropriate punishment for my myriad sins.

 

6/6/1

 

It is getting hot. C. is uncomfortable in the heat. She says she can feel the extra weight. I can feel it too – if I touch her stomach, it is hard there, and that's my child. Or, it will be.  Neither of us had thought of the heat, and we really could have planned it better.

 

She laughed when I told her that. It was wonderful. We've had so much intensity but very little straight forward laughter. I think it might be coming right, that is, everything. She is so beautiful when she laughs. Sometimes I think of all the time she was away, and I think how lucky I am that she will let me kiss her. Which I do, often. She is sitting outside with me now. She's shelling peas. She wants me to help her. She finds it boring. I do, too, which is why I made her do it. She threw a pea at me just now.

 

So, as it turns out, I actually am my parent's child.

 

Everything is spoiled by thinking.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

10/6/1

 

Tonight, when we were eating, she asked if I wanted to call the baby Felix. This is, unquestionably, the most thoughtful thing any person has ever done for me. Except for what she did for my father, that is.

 

I want to remember this. This is why I'm writing it down. I want to remember how I felt in that moment, how much I loved her, because I want to feel that about her always. I don't want any of the other stuff. I don't want to feel bored with her, or distracted, or angry. I just want to love her, because she deserves it.

 

It could be a girl's name, too, I think.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

20/6/1

 

She is showing a little. There's this tiny, tiny little bump. I felt it when I was frakking her from behind and I ran my hands over it. I was going to stop but then for some reason it was hotter. Her tits really are huge right now. They're incredible.

 

I'd kind of like to talk about this, but it's all a bit emotional right now and I'm worried she'll think I'm a horrible pervert.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

25/6/1

 

Something happened. I don't know what. I was outside, feeding our milk deer and something happened. I feel like there's something I should be writing down but it makes my head hurt. C. looks terribly worried.

 

26/6/1

I remember now and I think I had a heart attack. Tomorrow I'll do some bloods.

 

27/6/1

 

I didn't have a heart attack. Leaving me to conclude that something is actually wrong with my brain.

It wasn't a stroke, or at least I don't think it was – there are no other symptoms, and it is unlikely to be a haematoma or anything like that, since both of my pupils are dilating. It could be cancer, I suppose.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

30/6/1

 

Just got back from the village and nothing is wrong with my brain. Or, rather, nothing physical. What I am having is, apparently, a nervous breakdown. Hated leaving C., but she wouldn't come. 

 

What Cottle said was that because everything was fine now that I didn't know what to do with all the left-over repression and self-loathing. He said I had no system for processing it mentally, and so my body was responding in the only way it could think of, viz: by shutting down. I asked him what I was supposed to do about this, and he said he wasn't a therapist.

 

Part of me had hoped it was cancer.

 

31/6/1

 

C. wants to take over all the farm work but Cottle said working was good for me. I feel like the biggest ass in the world. Honestly, everything I ever do is wretched, and I can't even feel bad about it because then it comes out in a way that makes her feel worse. I've just put her back in the same position she was in before she left. This is awful.

 

What I need to do is figure out a way to deal to this without dragging her down with me. Suicide would be the easiest way, but then she's left alone with the child and nobody to protect them.

 

All I can think about today is my father. He'd never have done this.

 

1/7/1

 

I said that to C., about my father, and she didn't agree. What she thinks is, he might not have had the same exact problem but he certainly never talked to me properly. He was as distant, she said, in his own way, and that also he was an adult and I was a child, and of course I was angry at him. If I'd been someone different, it might have been alright, but I wasn't, and so it wasn't. She said my sins might be more dramatic but not necessarily worse. I'm not sure about that, to be honest, but it's touching that she cares enough to contextualise it that fashion.

 

But also, she thinks he was frightened of me, and on that I think she is right. He certainly thought everything I did I did to reject him, and I know that, because he said it to me oh, only a million times. Which was true, but it wasn't always true. Not at the start, anyway.

 

She is making me write this down. She's actually staring at me as we speak. Like a frakking hawk. The Doctor is In, apparently. I'm tempted to draw a penis in here.

 

2/7/1

Just list what you do.

Today I:

Milked the deer.

Put on the fat.

Pulled off a pile of the riper tomatoes.

Took a long walk out past the fruit trees and speculated about wheat.

Checked clay, poured water on it.

Spent an hour or so playing around with various vines (the rope we have won't last forever.)

Turned the compost.

Took the fat off and left it to cool.

Cut open one of the pumpkins to get at the seeds. Spread them on the arm of one of the outdoor chairs to dry. That was ridiculous, really. Now we'll have to eat it and I'd just pulled off all the tomatoes.

 

Tomorrow I'll have to do something about these tomatoes.

 

3/7/1

 

“Canning day”, or rather, jarring. C. helped and it seemed to work alright, and we did some of the cucumbers too. I think I did quite well with the seal, on the jars, but I realise I'm going to have to build a proper recess for cold storage, and the best place would probably be right under the house, but a good six feet or so in depth. I'm assuming it will be cooler there. It is quite a long time since I did any geology.

 

The frakking birds had eaten all of the seeds this morning so it was all for nothing anyway. 

 

4/7/1

 

Milk deer is whining a bit. Its foot looks infected, and I wasn't sure what to do without the proper drugs, so I've washed it and will check tomorrow.

 

Today wasn't bad. C. is very tired at the moment, even though she's into her second trimester (I think.) It did occur to me that perhaps Cylons were different, but really, I'm sure it's just everything I've put her through. So, anyway, she hasn't felt up to much but today she came out on my walk to talk about the wheat. Trouble is, of course, that if we're going to use if for anything besides millet, we'd have to grow a lot, and then there's milling it. Harvesting isn't a big effort (it is, but it's not a technological big effort) but milling would require a stone and/or windmill, and she was right when she said that this was rather a lot of industry just for bread. She also said that they were thinking of doing it in the village, so I might have to go down and help. I wonder if it's not worth considering that wheat was what started this whole thing in the first place, really. Perhaps not, then.

 

She has named the milk deer, by the way. It is called Milky. This is the worst name I have ever heard for an animal. I just told her that I wrote that and she threw a strip of rawhide at me.

 

5/7/1

 

I had forgotten about the fat. C. said she'd do it, since it doesn't make her sick any more. This is good news for me because it is, by far, the grossest job available.

 

Milky's foot looks worse, not better.

 

6/7/1

 

I washed the foot again, but it hasn't helped.

 

I think the stupid deer is going to die unless I cut off its foot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

10/7/1

 

I am in the dog house. Last night I drank about a quart of whatever it is that comes out of the still and behaved appallingly. I don't care. It was worth it. I didn't think about a thing for about five solid hours and it. was. bliss.

 

11/7/1

 

So it occurred to me that I could probably wash Milky's foot with the stuff from the still. Today, this occurred to me. For a quote unquote genius, I am a world class tit sometimes. It really was that simple. She whined like the apocalypse, but it did seem to make an immediate difference. Well done, Gaius.  Nice to see you're putting your double doctorate to good use.

 

C. still isn't speaking to me because of my falling off the wagon so resoundingly. I could care less. I'm drunk right now. It's great. And, look! I'm writing in my diary like a good boy!

 

Frak you, robot bitch. Yes, that's right. Frak you and your evil, mutant child. I don't care. I hate you and I hate us and I wish I was dead.

 

I also wish I had a smoke.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

15/7/1

 

Lee has been staying with us for a couple of days. Seems he's living in the village now, and wanted to talk about the wheat. He's concerned that it crosses a line, a line between knowledge and industry. I've never been one for that kind of philosophy. He's the frakking altruist, for god's sake I don't know why he wants my opinion.

 

He & C. have been talking, obviously.

 

16/7/1

 

Lee and I had a drink last night. He seems a lot older these days. Like a retired person.  He wants me to come down to the village now, but I can't leave C. while she's pregnant. What if something were to happen? I don't need a number 12), thank you very much.

 

Lee talked about his father a lot and I smelled her influence. She thinks she's figured it out, I think. That I'm all frakked up about my dad and so I'm all frakked up about the kid. Frak her. She has no idea.

 

17/1/1

 

Writing this from bed. Lee left this morning, early. C. came in to tell me this, and she tried to do it in a nice way, I think, but something made me angry at her. I told her to leave. She did. And then she came back and threw the diary at me. At my head, and quite hard, actually, and it hurt. Bitch. Bitch. Bitch. Bitch. Bitch. Bi

 

Oh my god, but you're an idiot, aren't you?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

21/7/1

I've learned a new trick. I call it shutting up and asking my wife to talk. Write that down, lad. That's advice for life: Pay attention to people other than self.

 

I don't think it's as bad as it could have been, though. After all, there's the slight mitigating circumstance of my nervous breakdown. 

 

22/7/1

 

Last night she spooned me, or rather, she positioned herself so I was spooning her. Yes! Out of the doghouse, at least at night. I'm pretty sure she was awake, too.

 

23/7/1

 

Alright then. So, I'm having a child with her and, god help me, I'm going to do it right. No more of this other nonsense. Last night, I held her, with my hand on her belly and for some reason, the world felt real. It doesn't always, but I only realise that in those times when it does. It's like falling, almost, jolting into place, and suddenly I am really there. I was really there. Our child is really there.

 

Nothing else matters now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

25/7/1

 

Milky died anyway. I thought C. would be sad, but she wasn't really. I am, as it turns out. I should have cut off her foot, but I think I know why I couldn't.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

30/7/1

 

This week has been good but yesterday I got stuck. I still did all those things. They haven't gone away. I tried to tell her, in the right words, how I didn't know how everything could be both bad and good at the same time. I don't understand what she's doing here. I don't think she knew what to say, but she put her arms around me and held my head against her chest for a while. It was nice. She hasn't done that since I knocked her up. Sometimes I think it's all I really want.

 

Should I be worried about that, though? I'm starting to think that I should. Because that's what I really want, and it's all part of that same pattern, why she left. Because I want her to fix everything because I can't do it.

 

Worse still, it's then that I realise, more than any other time that I feel that way. When she holds me like I'm a child. When she strokes my hair and lets me cry. That's when I love her. Applying my analytical faculty, I think I am somewhat influenced in this behaviour by my mother dying.

 

I just read her that and she laughed and laughed. She said (her words) that “Gaius, you could see that from space.”

 

I was, obviously, offended by that, but actually, writing it down now, it's quite funny, really (even if it was a joke about my dead mother. Which it was. Still.) 

 

And, besides, she held my hand after, and apologised, and said that she didn't mind the physical part, even if emotionally mothering me was a bit much sometimes.

 

“I do like holding you,” she said. “Your body is so fragile.”

 

It was very touching. I might be falling in love with her again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3/8/1

 

Today it rained buckets, so we spent most of the day picking and jarring everything that was ripe, lest it spoil. This took hours, and it made us really filthy. After, she lit a fire in the stove and boiled water and we had a bath. I hadn't seen her naked for nearly a month, and her body had changed so much in that time. It's all a bit fuller, and those porn star breasts look more in proportion. She thinks she's getting a fat ass, but I think it is exquisite. I couldn't keep my hands off it. It is softer than it was, but I find this impossible to view as a bad thing. It's just very special. And her skin is like poured caramel, really. Smooth and brown and absolutely delicious.

 

I will say one thing for reproduction – I love frakking her without having to pull out. I love it. I swear, I would fill her to the brim if I could. We did it several times as it was, because it was all warm from the stove and the fur in the kitchen is quite soft. I probably could have had another turn but she fell asleep.  With her hair long, like it is now, on that fur, she looked like a pregnant cave woman. It was far and away the hottest thing I'd ever seen. I almost had another turn on my own.

 

God, I love her. She is still sleeping. I should cover her with something, but she's so beautiful naked. Moments ago, I had those tits in my mouth.

 

 

 

 

 

6/8/1

 

She is really frightened that the baby will die. I caught her awake last night with her knees up against her chest and her arms wrapped round them. It took her a long time to tell me. I didn't really know what to do, except reassure her, and I did that, but then I worry that isn't right because what if it does? I won't have prepared her in the right way.

 

She said this was about how far she was when she had the miscarriage with Saul Tigh. She said she knew because it was moving. 

 

I didn't know it was moving.

 

7/8/1

 

I didn't want to go too far from home today. Worried about C. I had to do a couple of things, but mostly I stayed with her and talked. She talked about Saul a lot, and I, for some reason, talked about my mother. We never usually talk about the war, but we did, a little.

 

It's quite sunny outside, where we're sitting, which is good (vitamin D). It makes me remember Caprica before the fall. Sometimes I think about how different we are now from how we were then. We used to be terribly fabulous, of course. She used to wear very high heels.  Now we don't have any new clothes – and god knows what we're going to do when we need them!

 

She just said, just now, that she was scared to let me feel it moving. She said it very quietly and I'm not sure that she meant to say it aloud. I'm going to wait and see if she

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

10/8/1

 

I don't want to jinx this, but I think I am turning into a fundamentally decent human being. I've been very good, for days now, and I'm only slightly resentful of her. The first couple of days I wasn't resentful at all, and even now, it's not that bad, really. The thing is, I think now, I don't mind being good, but I want someone to notice how good I'm being, otherwise there's no point. The trick is, I think, to be good because IT'S THE RIGHT THING TO DO. EVEN IF NOBODY KNOWS.

 

There, you see? I didn't win those three Magnate awards for nothing. Lee would be proud.

 

The good thing is, there is a reward and it's this feeling of virtue.

 

11/8/1

 

No, that's not right. The virtue shouldn't be a reward either, because that's unstable. Because if I don't get that feeling, I'll think it isn't good. I don't really know how to distinguish a good from a bad without it, but I suspect I will have to learn otherwise I'll be stuck on the points system for all eternity. This shouldn't be CONSCIOUS, I don't think. I shouldn't be wondering “is this good?” “am I good?” all the time, I should just be doing it. I am forced to conclude that there is actually something wrong with me in this regard, and that I am fundamentally flawed.

 

I know this because I said (in a “tone”) that I wouldn't mind if she made me a cup of tea for once, which was an asshole thing to say, and I regret it. Taking care of one's pregnant wife is not something that's done for brownie points.

 

12/8/1

 

I have to stop this.

I have to stop this.

I have to stop this.

I have to stop this.

I have to stop this.

I have to stop this.

 

Jerk. You're a jerk. What is wrong with you? Shut up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

16/8/1

 

Apply analysis:

 

I am really glad I've been keeping these because I just read back over the last few weeks and I missed something: I keep thinking I have to be good or bad. The truth is I am neither of these things. I can't be evil and I can't be perfect, and if I can't be perfect, what I do then is let myself be evil. That's ridiculous. It is ridiculous. Honestly.

 

Reading it, it is so frakking obvious I can see it without my glasses. I feel resentful because I'm selfish. I act resentful. Bad things happen. Then I have proof that I'm a villain so I get to go right back to being selfish because I'm a villain. I think that what I'm going to have to figure out is that I'm actually not that important. She doesn't need to pay attention to me all the time. And, also, if I want to stop being selfish, then I will have to do it myself because she's not my mother.

 

I have to remember what I wrote about her. Not the horrible things. The nice ones. That's why. That's the reason to be decent. Not for me. For her.

 

17/8/1

 

 ~~My mother didn't~~  

 

18/8/1

 

~~When I was younger I~~

 

No.

 

No. No.

 

19/8/1

 

My mother is dead and I miss her.

 

 

 

 

 

21/8/1

 

Read back this morning and I really do. My mother was very proud of me but she thought I was doing it wrong. She thought I was wonderful but flawed. I do miss her. I think she was the only person who really understood me.

 

But that's not a very nice thing to say to a child, is it? Really. “You're special, but you'll have to be extremely careful about it.” I wish she hadn't died so I could have this out with her, but she did die and I never can. That's not fair, actually. It is really, really stupid and really, really unfair. She did a terrible job on me and there is no one to atone for it, and now I have to do it myself. I don't want to and I shouldn't have to because she should have done it, but she didn't, and frak her. Frak her, frak her, frak her, frak her. Everything is her fault. I'm sure I was fine right out of the box.

 

I miss her so much and I doubt she'd be proud of me now.

 

22/8/1

 

My wife made me a cup of tea just now. I am very tired this evening. I had to rebuild the whole smokehouse because a tree fell on it. Incidental detail.

 

I wrote such a lot about my mother yesterday, and I didn't think it through at all. I can't feel like that forever because if I do nothing will change. It's always the same thing. Blame someone else. Not my fault. I am such a write-off of a human being.

 

She is stroking my hair. She loves me. I really wish I was worth it.

 

NB: skins. 

 

23/8/1

 

It's not because of all the bad things I've done. I'm scared of having a child because I think I won't be good at it. That I don't know how to be good at it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

27/8/1

 

Writing this from Lee's place in the village. I think he has a girlfriend here, but it's impossible to tell. He is out right now but he could just be out being a wild man, running with the lions or whatever it is that jocks do of an evening.

 

C. finally decided that she would come and see Cottle. I don't know what brought it on, and she's not in the mood to tell. We walked in, because I didn't want to risk the horse ride, and it took all day and she is exhausted. He will see us tomorrow.

 

Lee's place isn't bad, really. It's rustic, but cosy. I promised I would look over the irrigation tomorrow also, and, I will say it in here to avoid saying it aloud and causing offence: these plans are rubbish. A monkey could have done better.

 

28/8/1

 

Nothing is wrong. Five and a half months he says, is the closest he can estimate without the tech. Nothing is wrong that can be seen without scans or an amniotic, neither of which we can do. So, as far as can be known, everything is fine. He says the pins and needles she's been getting are completely normal, too, which is a bit of a relief.

 

Funny, once we would have known if we were having a boy or a girl, but now there's no way to tell. I'm trying to think which I would prefer, but actually I don't mind either way.

 

While he was examining her, C. cried and cried and cried. I didn't know what to do, so I held her hand. She has been quiet since, so I have put off the irrigation until tomorrow. I think she is sleeping now, actually. Her head has been on my knees for some time, but her breathing has changed and it sounds like sleep. Oh, my dear. Hello. You're the mother of my child.

 

Lee is home. He seems unphased by us staying an extra night. I suppose he turns up at our place whenever he wants.

 

29/8/1

 

Lee Adama is an amazing person. That's all I have to say, really.  Worked hard today, everything much better. People should never underestimate nature.

 

C. told me that she feels better about everything. It was clearly hard for her to talk about it, but she did. I am proud of her. I don't know very much about women, at the end of it all. For all the things I thought I knew about them, too. I didn't know what you could feel about carrying another person inside you. I'm trying to imagine it as we speak. I'd rather not.

 

30/8/1

 

Long walk today. She's asleep now. I carried her to bed from the furs in the sitting room. I'm quite proud of that. She was rather heavy.

 

Cottle taught me how to deliver the child. I shall now transcribe the information for future reference:

  1. Make her comfortable.
  2. Put something clean under her.
  3. Raise her legs.
  4. Boil water, for sterilization. 
  5. Help her breathe.
  6. Don't ask her to push until she is at ten centimetres.
  7. Wash hands.
  8. Follow the crown. Try to guide out head.
  9. Use hands to guide out shoulder.



10.  The rest should come easily.

11.  If it is crying, that's fine. Otherwise, be a doctor.

12.  Give her the child.

13.  Wait for placenta. Don't tear it!

14.  Cut cord and wash child.

15.  Wrap it warmly.

 

He also said that it could be some time between the first contraction and the time she is ready to deliver. And that whatever I do I should endeavour to remember how much it hurts.

 

Things to be on the lookout for:

  1. Breech birth.
  2. Cord around neck. 
  3. Bleeding. Monitor that closely. 



 

He talked me through caesarean section, but his opinion was that I was unlikely to need it. This is the sort of circumstance that makes me miss high-tech. Women used to die in child-birth all the time. I doubt I would be all that competent if something else happened. Viruses, fine. Genetic scans, alright. Right now I wish I'd been an ordinary doctor. There's absolutely no use for genetic engineering in my present situation. Perhaps she'd consent to stay in the village until term?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2/9/1

 

Spent a long time this morning weeding the vegetable bed. Time to rotate in about 2 months. Some of the herbs are a little aggressive – C. suggests moving them to their own bed. She has vetoed the village.

 

This is something I'm only starting to understand about her now. I've been thinking about myself for such a long time that I think I am only starting to know her. She is a war hero, of course, but to her people. And then a traitor, and then a rebel. And then a hero again. I tend to see her as a woman – or, more properly, I see her as MY woman, that is to say, as an extension of myself, because I'm such a prince of a guy that way– and so I forget. What she is. Who she is. What she's been through. The decisions she made for me. We really are alien to each other, in some ways. But, I think what is happening is that she doesn't want to stay in the village because she doesn't want to have to talk to anyone about the past. I think she is shutting off the parts of herself that helped her fight, getting rid of them because she doesn't want the child to be touched by them.

 

What I used to find remarkable back then was her strength of purpose. Her faith, her always knowing. And when I reflect on that, it's not hard to understand why she was so hurt by the way I treated her on New Caprica. I made her weak, and I made her uncertain, partly because I resented that strength of purpose, because I didn't have any, and partly, of course, because I wanted to prove that she hadn't had anything over me. I hated her a lot back then; I blamed her for everything that had happened to me, but more than anything for making me love her in spite of it – on Caprica, that is, and only insomuch as I could. On New Caprica she was little more than a Symbol of My Decline (rather than, say, a person.) We have since apologised and atoned for everything, oh so many times, but I think I understand her pulling away now, because in some ways, she is going through the same thing, only for another reason. She was built to fight, after all, as well as to love, and she wants to put one of those things away.

 

I'm not sure if this is for the best, somehow. Or, rather, I'm not sure that she should be doing it so silently. Or so completely. I worry that in making herself over, she is making the left behind parts of herself something she can't talk about. As if they never were. As if they're not part of the story. This makes a lot of sense to me, somehow, and it also strikes me as somewhat dangerous.  I wonder if she still believes in God? Or, rather, of course she does, because we know something like that exists, but if she still believes in The Plan, or that there is one. Myself, I'm perhaps more comfortable with there not being a plan, but my feeling is that she's confused about that right now.  I will ask her. Came in a little early tonight and she's still cooking, so perhaps during dinner.

 

 

3/9/1

 

I think it gave her the shock of her life, me saying everything that I said last night. She was certainly impressed that I could be so perceptive (as I have not previously distinguished myself in this regard), and said so. The truth is, I suppose, that once I started wondering, she became fascinating. I wanted – I want – to know more about her. I never really did before, and actually, I think this is one of my problems: seeing people only as they relate to me, thinking I know what they are. Well, as it happens, I don't, and this is slowly becoming clear to me. I think I made things worse, not better.

 

So I want to write about my wife, who does not believe in a plan, or, actually, she does, but thinks she will never know it, so it doesn't matter. This makes her confused, it makes her wonder what she is for, It makes her wonder what she has to give a child. It makes her wonder if the child is just another substitute for the plan, or the purpose. And she wonders – she never did anything like I did, accidental stupid things that went terribly wrong – if the things she did are unforgivable. She says, if I torture myself about the codes and the Colonies, then shouldn't she, too?

 

I feel differently about this. I know I've said things, and blamed her, and everything else, but in my heart now I don't think she should feel anything. It was a war, and that was her side, and that was their plan. And yes, it was monstrous, but she is no more to blame than any other Cylon. I did tell her this, but I don't think it helped. I also told her that the war itself was to blame, our completing ideas, our competing people, and it was over, and what mattered is that it had ended, and that meant the score was wiped. But, of course, it isn't like that for me, and she knew that, and said so.

 

She said, then, that she didn't deserve to have a child, and this was so close to my own heart that I cried. But not for me, for her. Because she shouldn't think that, because she does! I don't know how to tell her! I tried, I really did, but it came to nothing, and I feel so unbelievably stupid. Especially since she thought she had made me cry, said something hurtful, that I didn't deserve it or something and I didn't know how to explain. I did try, but it was just a mess. I was just a mess. I haven't cried so uselessly for a long time.

 

I want to pull her to me, somehow. If there was a way to quiet those thoughts for her, just make them be silent. That's what I want to do.  If I could make it that way just by wanting it to.

 

4/9/1

 

It's different because it was an idea. What I did was stupid and careless. What she did was part of an idea. And it was a good idea. It was executed in the worst possible way, but God was a good idea.

 

Ideas have power, obviously. History would tend to suggest that they motivate everything. One certainly can't fight without them, and I know this because I did fight and I was able to because I had one, or because I believed in one. And if that action, that fighting, was right, then what she did was right too. Or, they're both wrong. Death is death, after all, so both wrong is what I think. But then, there are parts of rightness to them too, because of who was saved by those actions. So perhaps the rightness happens only at the level of perception? Perhaps it's just not as simple as that at all. To be honest, I've always been horribly confused by all of this, and I still am. I thought writing about it would help, but I seem to have lost the gift of historical analysis. Or, at least fallen out of love with it.

 

I think it's because it's getting in the way of the point. The point, of course, being that she is a good person. Fundamentally good. I have to make her see this.

 

5/9/1

 

We can't be like this. If neither of us deserve it, then what will it be like for the child? If we try to redeem ourselves through him or her? It can't be like that. I can already see that would be terrible – a recipe for disaster. She has told me not to try to make her feel better. She told me that she is competent to process and to understand her actions within her own frameworks. She also says that my trying to make her feel better means that she becomes worried about me and unable to feel what she is feeling.

 

She has been moving the herbs herself, and doing a good job of it. It seems she has been paying attention. She got annoyed when I tried to help, but partly I think this is because she doesn't want to talk to me. Though she says it's because I am too finicky about the way she treats the soil. She's also taken over milking the deer (possibly because she doesn't want a repeat of the Milky disaster. Fair enough, really.)

 

I spent a long time today thinking about how to handle this. The whole time I was re-seeding the tea, in fact. I came up with nothing. If she was a disease or a subroutine I'd have her solved by now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

8/9/1

 

This is the formula I'm now working from: I am quiet and I hold her. That's it. I hold her and I touch her gently, and even though I'd very much like to put my hand down her pants or up her top, I don't. This is the formula. We just stay very quiet, on the furs, where we usually sit in the evening and then we go to bed and I don't let her go. I either say nothing or I talk about normal things. If she talks to me, I try to keep it going, but try not to push. She is working through things, slowly. I am aware now that she had put a lot of attention on me to avoid doing this very thing. This evening she put her nose into the side of my neck. That's all. She says she's grateful to me for not trying anything on. She knows me so well.

 

 

 

 

 

15/9/1

 

Not having sex is a bit tough on me, especially since the house is so small. I had a quick one off the wrist out with the trees, and it seemed to help. It was quite exciting, actually. A few women popped in whom I hadn't seen for a while.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

19/9/1

 

Four times is a habit and now I feel guilty, especially since today I was thinking about Tori and D'anna, and they were quite athletic about it. I think I might have to confess.

 

20/9/1

 

Told C. about my solitary vigil in the woods last night. She laughed until she folded over. Hysterical. I didn't think it was THAT funny. In fact, I didn't think it was funny at all. I didn't have to tell her, did I? I could have just kept doing it. It's not as if I was having an affair. It was rather unkind of her to laugh, now that I think of it.

 

She told me that I could do it in the house. And then I said that that was ridiculous and really embarrassing. She laughed at me again, and then she kissed me. Then, wonder of wonders, she hopped on top of me. She's pretty heavy now, so it hurt my legs a bit, but god it felt wonderful.

 

It's a little funny. Alright, I was masturbating alone in the woods and scared to tell my wife about it. It's hilarious. I'm an idiot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

23/9/1

 

Well. Well. I said, this morning, how are you feeling about everything? She said, better. I said, you feel resolved? And she said, not really, I just feel as if it matters less. And I said, what matters less, and she said, everything. And I said that that was good because then she got to make her own decisions about what was going to matter. She said that I mattered to her, and that our family mattered to her, and that she thought that the trick was to not try to make sense of the past, because it only made sense TO the past, but to simply accept that it had happened (so, suddenly, she's a philosopher again!) I said I hoped she would tell our child about the life she had led, and the decisions she'd had to make, and I said that I hoped we would continue to talk about everything, not to figure it out, but just to examine it, and to think about ourselves and who we were. I said I wanted to keep the dialogue open, because I thought she had the tendency to shut down anything that she found confusing about herself, but that I understood that, because I did it myself, and in a lot less flattering ways. I said that I wanted to know what she was thinking and feeling, because I loved her, and that I promised to try not to let my feelings get in the way of anything she wanted to tell me. She was silent then, and then after a while she said thank you. So, of course, I said, for what? And she said, you wouldn't have asked that a year ago.

 

She's right. God help me, I think I might actually have changed.

 

24/9/1

 

Not sure I need to keep keeping this any more. C. and I looked at the stars tonight – really warm outside, even at night, and it's too hot for her to sleep indoors. She must be past six months now. We sat out until she was tired enough, but we may as well bring out something to sleep on over the next little while.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

17/10/1

 

Without it, I've got no place to put my excess thoughts.

 

Went hunting with Lee again today. It works considerably better with two – C. used to come, and will again, I hope, because she and I had a good rhythm, not to mention the fact that she is by far faster and tougher than I am. But it was good with Lee too. He has a good eye and he doesn't mind waiting. There's a lot of waiting, of course, but then one has to get in close and kill something with a knife. I dislike having blood on my hands, but I do like eating fresh meat (we've been living on smoked for the last few months.) I wonder that something else has to die so I can live. As if any life was always a series of deaths.

 

Lee wonders about this himself, or, rather, he does now. He's gone back to the village tonight, but he says he'll come up for drinks in a few days. This happened while I wasn't paying attention, but it seems that he is my actual friend. He seems to be putting things aside to talk to me about. I only hope I don't frak this up like I did with Felix.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

20/10/1

 

Drinks with Lee, yesterday. I'm trying very much not to be a drunk asshole when drinking and I find that Lee is a good influence on me. Still, after a couple I got bold and talked about Felix. Lee was very quiet and listened, and then he said that he had suspected that our relationship had affected me that way. He asked me if we'd been lovers, because he said he'd always wondered after Felix lied at the trial. It wasn't really a lie. It was, perhaps, about that specific incident, but it was true enough over all.

 

He also wanted to know what it was like speaking to Felix before he died, and that's something I remember often. I remember Felix looking at me, saying he wanted people to know who he was. It felt good to talk about him, it felt good to tell Lee who he was. I remember his face, all the time. He was a very attractive man, Felix, actually really beautiful. And I did know who he was, he was an idealist and he was so clever, and everything that happened to him after New Caprica was my fault. Felix's only fault was being naive. He trusted me, and I let him down very badly. Lee didn't exactly disagree, but he said, also, that Felix made his own choices. That was nice of him to say.

 

Lee's like a monk or a priest sometimes (he's so calm!) but still, it's funny being so emotional with another man. I thought, for a moment, that all this confession would make him think differently about me. It didn't – and I suppose I shouldn't have wondered, because he's already some fairly appalling behaviour on my part, and still, here he is. I said – and this is something I find truly remarkable – that I was glad he was my friend (it's remarkable because I don't do that. I'm terrible at that. I always have been. It's one thing with women, but it's quite another thing with a man.) He said he was too. He said, I will write again for emphasis, that he was glad he was my friend too.  He also said, and I had forgotten this, that he was there when Felix was executed. He was! I hadn't remembered. I think we even spoke afterwards, but my mind is a total blank. I'm trying to remember now, but all I can see is Felix, and all I can hear is the last thing he said - “it's stopped”, referring to his phantom pain from his missing leg, I assume, but also, perhaps, to the pain of such a confusing existence. I had forgotten – and this, really, is pretty poor of me – that Tom Zarek had also been executed then. Tom was a good man, in some ways. He was certainly more honourable than I, and I respected him. He was a pretty pure soul, I think, even if his purity was essentially destructive.  Lee agreed on that front. He said that Tom had taught him a lot, and that many times he had found him to be extremely honourable. Tom had been his friend, actually. He had never been mine, really, even though I knew him pretty well, but some of that is because I've never known how to have friends.

 

One thing Lee said was that at the time, the worst thing for him was knowing it was the only possible choice, the only possible outcome. Felix had to be shot. I think I knew that too, but god I wish I

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

22/10/1

 

Thinking about Felix, still. It's not so much with personal horror any more. Just sadness. He told me that he had wanted to be an architect, once. He would have been very good at that. He had that kind of mind, dreaming and methodical at the same time. I wish he was here, now, so we could talk. He wouldn't even let me apologise on that last night. I don't know whether he had forgiven me, or whether he just didn't care any more. I suppose it doesn't really matter either way.

 

Rest well, Felix Gaeta. You were my friend and I love you. I didn't then, but that's only because I didn't know how.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5/11/1

 

I like watching her sew. Partly this is because I taught her – sewing fabric is not that different from sewing skin – but partly it's just the pleasure in seeing a job well done. She is making clothes for the child out of one of my shirts. She is also wearing one of my shirts (it's a bit short on her arms.) The clothes are very little. Touchingly little, actually. It gives me a nice feeling. I am, it seems, becoming something of a sentimental fool where my child is concerned. From time to time, it pays to remind myself that I am extraordinarily lucky.

 

Can't seem to give up writing. I've gotten used to it. I think maybe I'll write a pornographic novel. Not for any particular reason, but just because I can. There wouldn't even be anybody to read it, except for C. and possibly Lee (although, I doubt he would read it, he's far too pure) but I think I'd like to write it anyway. For my own amusement, I suppose. It occurred to me to write a history or a memoir or something like that, but I'd rather not. I'd much rather write about sex. It is one of my favourite things, and I have a lot of experience to draw on. I'm not about to say it was all healthy, but it was certainly varied.

 

The sex C. and I are having at the moment is inventive, so perhaps that's what brought this on. She thinks a porn novel is a great idea. It's quite nice of her too, I think, that she wouldn't mind my writing about other girls. The thing is, I do actually like writing. I wouldn't mind writing about the menage à trois she and I had with D'anna. I know that everything that was going on around them was complex and horrible, and as I recall I was pretty caddish in my treatment of both women, but my oh my, that was some excellent sex. There is no sex like sex with two Cylons. They were both considerably stronger than me, of course. And they were licking each other.

 

It occurs to me that we might have another threesome with someone from the village, possibly another six.

 

6/11/1

 

C. has loudly vetoed threesome. She says that even if she wasn't almost eight months pregnant, she'd still be too old for that sort of complicated nonsense. Fair point, really. I doubt she remembers it as fondly as I do.

 

She has the most endearing waddle these days. Obviously, she's carrying a lot more weight than she's used to, so she has to sort of tilt backwards to walk or get up. It's adorable. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

15/11/1

 

C. brought up the child's name again. She put my hand on her stomach and told me it was Felix either way. I wonder if she has any names. I suppose if she does we'll just have to have more. Goodness knows where we'd put them all.

 

Notes for porno novel:

The time Tori cried.

That lady on Caprica before the fall who did martial arts.

Those three students from my first year info-tech paper. They were awkward as anything, but that was what made it so touching. One was a blonde and two had dark hair. They were all only eighteen (they're lovely at that age) and, of course, I gave them all As.

 

Bit tired tonight. Started rotating the vegetables and it's quite the job, as always.

 

C. has just said something very dirty. Sometimes I forget how kinky she is. She's smiling sweetly at me right now. I assume this is because she has no idea what I'm about to do to her.

 

16/11/1

 

I'm trying to think HOW to write about sex. Looking back over this diary to see how I have written about it so far, and I haven't much, or at least not as much as I've thought about it.

 

Last night, for example, I made love to my wife, or rather, we made love to each other. Often, when I write about it or even think about it, I tend to think of sex as an action I do upon another, rather than as a mutual experience. But I don't think that's how I think of it when I'm there. When I'm there, it always amazes me. Her touching me, and getting to touch her. Making her moan. Her nipples are quite a lot harder, and a bit bigger than they usually are, and very sensitive, so I have to be gentle. Sometimes she leaks a tiny bit, just the tiniest bit. I've licked it off once or twice. She thought it was gross at first.

 

Her breasts get sore, too, so everything has to be done softly. I can't pull on her or paw her, it has to be smooth little strokes, cupping and not grabbing. I actually have to remind myself about this, because I do like a bold handful of tit. If I grab her too tightly, it makes her wince. I can't push too hard on her stomach, either, because of where the baby is sitting. If I hold her too firmly around the waist it makes her want to go to the bathroom.

 

But what I like the most is watching her face. She looks so many different ways while we're doing it. Often she will look up at me, in this curious sort of way, before biting me, or licking my stomach, or cupping my balls with her palm and stroking the edge of my ass. Sometimes she'll put her finger in, just a little bit, and that really is excellent. Her face changes when she gets closer to coming, too. By degrees. I have spent a lot of time watching her. Sometimes, I'll bring her close by eating her out, and then finish her off with my hand just so I can lie next to her and watch her face.

 

The other thing that's changed is that it's a little hard on her to get on top of me now, and also, for me to get on top of her (she'd have to tilt back quite far, of course, and that's a bit of effort.) Sometimes we'll do that and I'll hold up her legs, and we can still do it easily from behind, of course, but last night, to save her knees, we did it on our sides. I don't think it was as deep for her, but I took care to compensate her with my fingers. It was great for me. Because her legs were together, it was quite tight, and there are few things that are more pleasant than having a beautiful woman's ass slapping against one's thighs.

 

She still worries about that, by the way, her ass. She's got quite curvy all over, and she did used to be very thin. Still, I say now as I said when she first brought it up: there is absolutely nothing wrong with a nice soft ass.

 

 

17/11/1

 

What's amazing is when she sucks my fingers. She'll just start at night when we're in bed, sucking them, licking them, until she can feel how hard I am and then she sucks my cock. It all happens in total darkness, so I can feel it all, but I can't see.

 

There's no need to write a novel, really. There's no point writing it all down when I can just talk about it with her. I forget that, really, all the time. It's all been so mixed up and confused and complex and, of course, there was a war. And she came to me because of that war. But, oh, my, we used to frak like rabbits. Once in a limousine. We were slightly drunk, or at least I was, and she kissed me like I had never been kissed before and I couldn't let it rest there. I pulled her leg over my shoulder and gave it to her. The best part was, she didn't seem at all surprised. That was incredible. On the one hand, I was frakking her fully dressed – I just opened my fly, and she wasn't wearing any panties – almost violently, certainly aggressively, in my own kind of furious pervert heaven, but at the same time, she regarded me with total understanding, unwavering power even, and a little smile, so I was thinking “who the frak are you?” She looked as if she had me right where she wanted me, which, I suppose, she did. I think I'll always wonder when she fell in love with me for real, and how long it was all for show.

 

I don't think she was, now, actually. Drunk. She never drank very much. Just enough to be in the party. And once, when I came in to my house with another woman, and she was there, she was drinking already. But just one, I think. The point is, though, that I shouldn't forget. My wife was – is – a seriously dirty girl.

 

We should stop, actually. Cottle said making her come too much in the last month can be a bit dangerous.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

24/11/1

 

Can't sleep. C. only just fallen asleep now. We had a false alarm. I am terrified, both of something going wrong, and of everything going right. We're going to have a baby, and very soon, by the look of it. I'm not sure I'm ready. I'm not sure I'll ever be ready. Writing this by lamp out the front and I can just see the sun coming up. It makes me feel better, though I'm not sure why.

 

Alright, Gaius. Time for a serious talk with yourself. You are going to be somebody's father. You're not going to be like your father was. There's no rule, and there's nothing that says you have to be. Besides, if you're frightened, imagine how she must feel. She's the one that has to push it out. You'll be fine. You just have to be a man.

 

 

 

 

 

28/11/1

 

Poor old C. She's just exhausted. She can barely sleep at all and she's getting ratty. She's quite sharp tongued when she wants to be, I now realise.

 

After our false alarm the other night, I don't want to leave her alone, so I haven't been further than her line of sight when out the front of the house. There are a few things I'd like to take care of, but I think they'll keep for the next couple of weeks. Either that or I'll see if I can't convince her to come for a little walk. I also said I would take over the cooking, but she says she doesn't trust me not to poison her. With mediocrity. Absolutely touching.

 

Funny, this only just occurred to me, but I wonder where she learned to cook?

 

29/11/1

 

She had a little sleep on a skin when I was fixing the well. When she woke up she seemed in a much better mood. I could tell this because she kept tickling my ankles and trying to put her hand up my trousers until I dropped my chisel down the well. It was mean! I'm not allowed to have sex with her! I had to make another chisel, too.

 

She says she was given cooking as part of her programming in case she needed it to impress me. Well, it worked. 

 

I still feel very tense about the child, but that's taken a back seat because of how tired she is. I imagine it must be very tiring carrying all that weight around – she's very big, and as curvy as she is now, her bones are still awfully little. It's funny, actually – her face is quite a lot rounder now, not so much cheekbone, but her neck is still as slender as it ever was. I remember she used to have a really good collection of earrings, a lot of them quite long, to show off that neck. She has some of them with her, I think, though she seldom wears them. And the fact that she's so tired makes me feel guilty. I'm the one that got her in this situation, after all.

 

As we speak she is re-reading one of the few books we have. She looks bored and irritated, I might make her a cup of tea if she wants one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hello, darling. How do you feel?

 

 

I'm sorry L

Do you want anything?

 

 

Yes, I want you to! Don't read anything else though.

 

Of course not! It's private! Are you alright? Why won't you talk to me?

 

I'm scared about the child.

 

Oh, Gaius. I know you are.

 

I think I won't be a very good father.

 

Yes, you will. You'll see.

 

I haven't been a very good boyfriend.

 

Husband.

 

I still haven't been very good.

 

I don't love you because you're good.

 

Thanks very much!!

 

Gaius! You know what I mean!

 

No I don't.

 

I love you.

 

I love you.

 

I know you do.

 

Can I say I'm sorry now for everything I'll probably do wrong?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I wish we could have sex.

 

That's mean! I'm trying not to think about it.

 

Have you been playing with yourself in the woods again?

 

No! I'm saving myself for you.

 

You can, I don't mind.

 

 

Do you really miss it?

 

Of course I miss it! You're very sexy, you know.

 

I have such a fat ass.

 

You have a very nice ass.

 

Thank you.

 

I mean it! I'm very fond of it.

 

I like yours too.

 

Thank you.

 

Do you remember that time I gave you a blow-job in your office after that lecture?

 

What are you trying to do to me!

 

Do you?

 

I certainly do.

 

Would you like another one like that?

 

Yes, always. But you're too tired. And, besides, I'm not allowed to do anything for you.

 

I don't mind!

 

No, I'm going to be virtuous. I'll take a kiss, though.

 

Do you feel better?

 

Yes, a bit. Thank you for indulging me.

 

I love you.

 

I love you.

 

Are you still scared?

 

Yes.

 

Me too.

 

Let's take care of each other, then.

 

I Promise.

 

So do I. I wonder if it's a boy or a girl?

 

Which do you want?

 

I don't mind.

 

Neither do I. I'm just excited to meet them.

 

Excited as well as scared?

 

Yes.

 

Me too.

 

There'll be a lot of work, though.

 

And what else is new?

 

Nothing! But I am looking forward to having a drink.

 

I hadn't thought of that. Well, we'll get good and drunk after it pops out. Promise you that.

 

Let's have a party.

 

And invite whom?

 

I don't know. Lee and his girlfriend.

 

Does he have a girlfriend? I KNEW IT!

 

All you had to do was ask him!

 

I will, now.

 

We could start talking aloud.

 

We could.

 

You're so funny sometimes.

 

Yes, but you're funny all the time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

13/12/1

 

I have a son!

Ten fingers, ten toes. He is perfect.

 

Happy birthday, Felix.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

16/12/1

 

There aren't any photographs, and there's no way to make them, so I will write this down, for little Felix. I suppose I will remember it always, but it would be nice for him to have something that was a proper record. I should have done it at the time, but there was so much else to do.

 

So, Felix, this is what happened when you were born:

Your mother and I were outside, picking apples. It was a very beautiful day – a little chilly, but the light was clear, and your mother looked marvellous. She couldn't reach very high because of the effort and I am not very tall, so we were contriving ways to get the higher apples without having to climb when she bent over and said my name. I knew she was very close to term, so I immediately reacted. I dropped several apples, and she laughed at me, and then bent over again. I took her back to the house very carefully. Her waters broke on the way and it gave us both quite a shock, as we’d been told not to expect that until right near the end.

 

There isn't any light indoors as you probably know, so I lit a few lamps and laid her in our bed and made her comfortable, then we sat together, as I had been told to do, and waited, mostly. We were there for several hours as her contractions got closer together. I presume it must have got dark in the interim, because I had to go outside for water and the stars were out by then. At this time, I wished there were more books, because I was down to my last amusing stories, and the waiting was making us both nervous. You see, we both wanted you very much, and we were worried that something would happen that would keep you from us. The contractions hurt her – you should know that. Not to feel bad, because that's just the way of babies, and nobody is born without that, but to know what women are and what they go through for us (in this regard, I hope you will not take after your father, who has rather an appalling record in the treatment of women. Never mind, though. When you are older.)

After a while, they got closer together. She wanted to get up, to go outside to the bathroom, so I took her, and then brought her back. Then things started to happen. After that, I think my mind went a little blank. I do remember your mother swearing at me rather a lot. Words were exchanged. Partly it was tension, but mostly it was that she was in quite a lot of pain. A baby's head is quite large, Felix, compared to the place it must come out of. This, too, is worth remembering.

Somehow, at any rate, I recalled everything I had been told to do, and you were born easily enough. For a moment I thought your shoulder would be stuck, but then my hand seemed to find the right spot and then, out you came. You cried like anything, and I put you on your mother's chest. She put her arms around you. There was quite a lot of mess. Babies are very messy.

In a little while, the after-birth came. That was the place you lived before you were born, the little home you had inside your mother. We kept it, and we buried it, and I will show you where. I cut the cord where you had been attached to it,  and washed you in tepid water, and tied it up. It will fall off pretty soon, and that will be where your belly-button is. We didn't have a proper blanket, so I wrapped you in a cotton t-shirt and a fur (it was a wolf that I killed, when I found out that you were coming) and then I gave you to your mother.

If you could have seen her face, Felix. I wish you could have. You will never know, probably, how much your parents love you, but I would like to tell you that we do, and that we loved you from that very first moment. We will never stop, either. For any reason. We were so happy when you were born. I want you to know that. Whatever else passes between us in your life, I want you to know how happy I, and your mother, were to have you, how glad we were that you had come. You were so remarkably tiny, also. You will grow pretty fast, I think, but now you are small enough to almost fit in my two hands.

Your mother slept for a few hours shortly afterwards (she was very tired), and at this time I held you. You were tired too, I think, because you were sleeping. You were – and are – absolutely perfect in every regard.

 


	3. Whittling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which women are made metaphor.

1/1/2

 

What are we going to make clothes out of? That's my number one question right now. I've lost all my shirts! I am down to my last two. I just never thought of these things – diapers for Felix, things to wrap him in. I remember feeling this way when we first arrived – that every day there would be something for which I had had an easy solution in my previous life, some product or other, something I could find or, more usually, buy. None of those things exist any longer. I think we'll soon be dressing in skins (though I'm not sure I can bring myself to make the transition to fur loincloth.) Time for a lot of sewing, I think. The sensible thing to do would be, when cutting up my second to last shirt (as will almost certainly occur – I'm trying to stay on top of laundry, but one has to be pretty fast ) to actually take it apart properly and see how it is made. I don't know what we'll do when we run out of thread – Lee says it can be made out of gut.

 

Most of C.'s clothes are hopelessly fashionable. She never did know how to dress down. She had one pair of somebody else's jeans which she lived in until she was too big for them, and one of her pairs of stylish pants are actually quite comfortable (if a little tight now), but nothing she has can really be transformed. Also, the fabrics are flimsy. Silk, things like that. Lovely to touch, but not terribly practical (though she says silk is pretty warm.) All of my things are – were – cotton or wool. I was a terrible snob about that, back in the day, and now, part of me is glad I was. I'm glad we have a lot of cotton for Felix, because there certainly won't be any more. At least not until Brave New World produces slavery.

 

So; my darling boy is two weeks old, or thereabouts. He has been outside this morning and looked at the world (though he can't focus terribly well yet, so I don't know how much he saw) and has deigned to sleep once or twice in the last little while. As we speak he is being fed. He had a little trouble latching on at first, but now he seems to have gotten the hang of it. His mother is making faces. She says her nipples are bit sore. But she looks beautiful. She is beautiful. She holds him so naturally, from time to time stroking his fuzzy little head, and I wonder where this came from? How did she know how to do this? How did I know? Because it seems as if he has always been here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4/1/2

 

Visitors yesterday. Doctor Cottle, and Lee and somebody new! Cottle had come with luggage, prepared to stay a few days if Felix had been late, but as it was he left this morning. Mother and baby both in good health. He gave me a long lecture about the breastfeeding. He said it could be hard on her and that I needed to tend her every whim. I had been already. He also told me that some of that silk could be folded up and stitched together and she could use it as a couple of soft pads so her clothes wouldn't chafe. She never wears a bra (I don't think she has one) but I'm sure something can be figured out. I plan to do that next. Oh yes! And that I wasn't to try and get off with her until she was good and ready. He says a lot of men don't need to be told that – that seeing the parts in action, as it were, put them off. He added that this probably didn't apply to me, as there wasn't anything in the world that could put me off. Hilarious, Doctor. Thank you.

 

After the lecture, he gave me – wonder of wonders – a cigarette. It was pretty dry, I'll admit. I can't believe how much I used to smoke. During, he slapped me once on the back and told me I had done well. I thought of my father. Obviously, really. I have thought of him often in the last two weeks. My feelings have changed, but I'm not sure how to write about them yet.

 

Here's what I really want to write about – Lee and his new friend. C. knew about her already, of course, but I had only speculated. She can't speak – she is actually from here – but is very pretty and I doubt she misses anything. I'm sorry that they've gone, actually, because she seemed to know exactly what had to be done for Felix. C. liked her too. Their interactions were subtle, and they seemed to, after the first half hour or so, work out how to communicate by touching. They held hands once or twice, and I had some thoughts I probably shouldn't have had. ~~I wonder if Lee would~~

 

What I really want to know – and I plan to ask Lee next time we're out hunting – is what it is like to be with someone he can't talk to, or, who can't talk to him. C. and I talk so much, and I can't imagine what it would be like without it. But Lee and she  (I don't know her name, it was never said) seem to communicate perfectly well. Lots of looks. They look at each other, and it's like they speak with their eyes. Watching them cook together was quite impressive. They seemed to know what each other would do. She sat very near him for most of the evening, and he rested his hand on her thigh. Some very significant looks were exchanged when she held Felix.

 

He is sleeping now. Good boy. I'm a bit hungover. C. had one and a half drinks and then promptly fell asleep in my lap, but the rest of us kept going for hours. Felix was fêted, and he was very good about it. He didn't seem to mind being passed around and obsessed over, and eventually he quietly nodded off in my arms. He really is so tiny, I can't get over it. Last night, when I was holding him, Lee said my name several times before I heard.

 

Cottle told me this morning that he was far too old for that kind of behaviour, but Lee seemed invigorated and his friend seemed to not even break stride. I wonder what kind of liquor her people make? It can be made out of anything, after all. I'll have to get her to show me.

 

Written a lot. Better do some work and try to sweat out some of this hangover.

 

 

5/1/2

 

C. tells me that her name isn't a word. She showed me, instead, that it is a gentle push to the chest with the fingertips, both hands close together.

 

She is cooking. This evening she decided that she'd had enough of mine.

 

6/1/2

 

She burst into tears while she was feeding him tonight. Poor Felix obviously felt bad for her, since he started crying too. I'm sorry breastfeeding hurts her so much, but she really oughtn't to cry in front of our child. 

 

 

 

 

 

13/1/2

 

Hello, Felix.

 

Today you are a month old. You are already bigger than you were when you were born. You woke me up very early this morning, but then you gripped my finger and held it tight and all was forgiven. You have my eyes and your mother's nose.

 

 

14/1/2

 

I wonder if it was like this for my father? I had an elder brother, so he was probably a lot less confounded. But there is one memory that I have which is very clear: I would have been about four years old, and he taught me, very patiently, how to plant a seedling. It was a cold day but he made me take off my gloves so I could feel the soil. Then he made me cup my hands and he put the seedling in them, and put his hands around mine.

 

 

 

17/1/2

 

When I came in tonight they were sitting out the front wrapped in a fur, waiting for me. It had already got dark since I'd had so much backed up. I haven't wanted to leave Felix much and he's too little to be dragging around with me, but today it became apparent that some work needed to be done, particularly on the fruit trees. Almost all of them wanted pruning, and several of them quite extensively.

 

Felix is starting to become aware of himself, I think. Or his surroundings. I'm not sure which. It was funny – I didn't notice that it had been absent until it started to happen. But now he will turn his head a little and look when something happens, as when I sat on the arm of the chair. He looked right at me, then, as if he was trying to figure me out. How remarkable. It's only now writing this down that I am struck by this, but my son is a person! A thinking person, with his own brain and heart and soon he will have his own ideas. It is amazing to imagine him in this way, in the future, as living, as having a life, as saying and doing things. I wonder what they will be. I wonder what he will be like, because he is like himself already. That doesn't make any sense. But he is himself. A person. Every part of that is exciting.

 

 

18/1/2

 

Felix smiled today! An actual smile! A genuine beam! He smiled at his mother while she was changing him and she called me over and he did it again for me. Then he did it again at nothing and he hasn't done it since. I wonder what he was thinking? He knows who we are, and sometimes I think he understands what I am saying, or at least understands that I am talking to him. I talk to him whenever I can. I try not to use baby talk but C. has no such reservations. She says it's about using a loving tone, not words, because he can't possibly understand words. But he will one day, won't he? It is important not to talk to him as if he were stupid, because that will make him stupid. I can't stand the baby talk when she does it. He's not a dog, he's a person.

 

19/1/2

 

More smiling. Then some tears. He's having a little trouble latching on to the breast again. C. a bit frazzled.

 

 

21/1/2

 

The wife threw her toys out of the cot at me this evening. She said Felix had been crying and crying, and not latching on and that her breasts hurt and she was tired, and sick of breastfeeding and she wanted to stop.  I know, of course, that it is hard and painful, but what else was she planning to feed him? Cottle said that he can't have any solids for six months and that her milk is the only milk that has what he needs for his development, so we're left with few (actually, no) other options. She actually shrieked at me. I've never heard her shriek before. Felix wouldn't go to sleep for hours and I don't wonder at it, what with his mother's racket. What if he remembers it and thinks it is his fault? His little body, I sometimes think, is so vulnerable, even as it feels warm and solid. Nothing bad can ever happen to him.

 

I'm worried about her, actually. She got so upset and I don't think it is healthy. She might have post-natal depression.

 

22/1/2

 

C. unimpressed by my diagnosis. Offended, actually, would be a better word. I wanted to discuss whether or not she felt she had properly bonded with Felix and she wouldn't have it. She told me in no uncertain terms to frak off outside and not come back until I was prepared to be supportive of her. This undignified anger really isn't like her, so I am even more convinced that I am right. Besides, I AM supportive of her! I try not to get her up unless Felix actually wants to be fed, so she gets enough sleep. And I am still doing some of the housework, as well as the farm work. Clearly, she is unwell. Tempted to go and see Cottle.

 

23/1/2

 

Started curing a lot of skins today. Felix threw up on my second last shirt and it seemed about the right time to think laterally.

 

Wife still mad.

 

 

 

 

24/1/2

 

Up for hours staring into the lamp. Go to sleep, Felix! Everything is alright! The wife is singing to him but it isn't helping.

 

Tried to take him to see what was wrong but she wouldn't let me. She says nothing is wrong. He's just crying because he doesn't feel like sleeping. She said he had already been changed and fed and burped and everything. Maybe he is sick? He might be sick.  Oh God, don't let him be sick. Please don't let him be sick.

 

Just went to see if he had a fever. C. said he didn't and sent me away. She didn't shout at me but she looked like she wanted to.  I told her that I was a doctor and she wasn't.  She told me that I was also an asshole. I don't want Felix to know that about me. How can she be so angry at me when our son is sick? Please don't let him be sick. Please don't let him be sick. Please don't let him be sick.  ~~Don't let him die.~~

~~  
~~

Please, nothing bad. Not for Felix.

 

25/1/2

 

She dumped Felix in my lap this morning and said she was going for a walk. It was all a bit aggressive, actually, but I'm not going to apologise. She shouldn't have called me an asshole in front of my infant son. Took the opportunity to give him a quick exam, and he DOES seem fine, but what if there's something I can't see? He looks happy as a clam, now, in my lap, grabbing at his wolfie, but still. Hello, Felix, how are you? Do you feel alright? I said this out loud and he obviously recognised my voice, because he looked straight at me.

 

She's been gone for ages, actually. I hope she gets back soon. He'll want feeding and that's the only thing I can't do for her.

 

23/1/2

 

We've made up, sort of. She said she was sorry for calling me an asshole, but then she implied that I was over-worrying about Felix. Obviously, I am not, so am not sure what to make of her suggestion, really. Am starting to think that it is essential that I make plans to see Cottle as soon as possible, but don't want to leave her alone with Felix, especially since she's so touchy about the breastfeeding. I'm worried that she'll shout at him or otherwise hurt his little feelings and make him cry. She's still doing the baby talk.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

30/1/2

 

I need a name to call Lee's girlfriend. Lee says – and he is absolutely right – that her name is not the action. Rather, it's what the action means. Here I am, here we are, I trust you, we are alive, you're safe with me. That's her name. What's the word for that? ~~Being heart~~ Faith. 

 

Faith is sexy. I mean that in a nice way, of course, but she is sexy. She has a lovely pert little ass, quite round but very firm. I'm so glad they're here. At my wits end about the wife and so worried about what she might say to Felix. So far it's been alright, but she's still so angry at me. Lee and Faith made dinner and Faith examined the skins earlier today. Lee confirmed that she was in fact able to make clothes out of skins (I hadn't thought of this because she was wearing Lee's clothes when they came) and apparently, she will show me tomorrow. As we speak she is “talking” with the wife and holding Felix. It suits her. I hope she and Lee decide to have children. Felix seems to like her, too.

 

1/2/2

 

Last night when we were having drinks, Lee accused me of being inconsiderate towards the wife. It wasn't subtle, either. Here we are, talking, just normal this-and-that, and then he asked me if I had noticed that I had referred to her several times as “the wife” or “his mother” and not used her name once. THEN – and this was REALLY RUDE – he said, and quite forcefully, that as far as he knew we were not actually married, and that he recommended that I was a lot nicer to her about the breastfeeding because it is clearly very hard on her if I didn't want her to figure that out. He said that Faith had “told” him that she was fed up with me and just generally exhausted and has tried to talk to me about it several times.

 

Well, excuse me, Lee The Galactic Hero, but she has not, and besides, what I say to my wife (and she IS my wife) is my own business. Also, she clearly has something going on with her because she's not nearly as concerned with Felix as I am and I don't think they've bonded properly at all. Lee then suggested that this was perhaps because she had to push him out of her vagina and let him suck on her nipples, and that as far as he could see she seemed to be doing it perfectly well. In his opinion, there is nothing wrong with her bond with Felix, but there is something wrong with mine. He says I am not just enamoured, I am obsessive. He is one hundred percent wrong, but of course he wouldn't admit that, so we went to bed on slightly unfriendly terms.

 

2/2/2

 

Oh God. Just read over the last few entries and I have done it in here too. Caprica. Caprica Six. That's her name. That's my wife's name. Lee might be right about my being insensitive.

 

He's wrong about Felix, though.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5/2/2

 

Spoke to C., as Lee more or less made me. He and Faith offered to watch Felix, so I took her outside for a bit. Apologised. She told me I had not kissed her on the mouth since the day after Felix was born. Could I really have been so awful? (Do I actually have to ask? The answer to that question is always and forever a resounding “yes.”)

 

She said she felt perfectly fine about Felix for the most part, but pretty rotten about me. She had a little cry. At first I felt annoyed with her but then I tried to put myself in her place. She said her breasts sometimes feel like two painful rocks and she said, did I know that feeling on a cold morning when one's nipples go hard and sting? Because it was like that all the time for her, day and night, and besides, they felt chafed. And that sometimes, when Felix wouldn't latch she thought it was her fault. And then I felt absolutely awful, because I had almost suggested that to her the last time he wasn't latching. It isn't her fault, of course. According to Cottle's lecture of the 4th it's perfectly normal, even standard, for a child not to latch straight away, and to have difficulties from time to time. So I gave her a hug and told her this, at that point she really sobbed, mostly with relief as I understood it. Why didn't Cottle tell her? But then, she says, he did. My poor darling C. I can't believe I haven't kissed her on the mouth for nearly two months. Actually, I can believe it, but I don't want to. I did, of course, kiss her then (yesterday) but she said she didn't want me to do it out of duty. I said that duty had nothing to do with it, and I was really sorry. She's so very tall – I only come up to her shoulder, so she has to bend down for me. It's more work for her than it is for me, I would have thought. Though I have taken care to kiss her on the mouth this morning, and to be nice about her feeding Felix.

 

I'm still not sure what to make of what she says about Felix and I. I really don't think I am obsessing at all – I think I have a perfectly natural concern for him, and that is as it should be, because I am his father and he is my son.  However, I tried not to act as offended by her suggestion as I felt. It's more important that I be kind to her now.

 

After all this, Faith took the skins of the racks and has started working some of them into shirts. My job at this point is just to watch and learn, but after a day and a half, I think I have got the idea. Tomorrow I'll start one of my own. She's quite the perfectionist, is Faith.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

7/2/1

 

It's all about my father again. As always.  Lee and I were having our usual drinks (which have got better again since I followed his instructions and he's no longer appalled by me, even if he does disapprove about Felix) and he was talking about his father, the Admiral, and the last time he saw him. He said William Adama took Laura away to die, to be with her when she died, and, presumably, to stay with her where she was buried. He, Lee, didn't know where that was, and they had parted with the complete understanding that they would never see each other again.

 

I'd heard all this before, of course, and even found it admirable in the past, but what struck me as ridiculous this time was that Lee seemed to find this all perfectly acceptable, if sad. I didn't. Why shouldn't the Admiral come back and see Lee? Why did he need to be alone with his dead lover's body? Didn't he care about his son at all? Lee was trying to defend him and I was getting really angry on Lee's behalf, since he was acting so calm about it, and then, mid-sentence, I realised that I was actually angry on my own behalf and with my own father and at myself for not, well, I don't know what, not being good enough for him to want me, or something, and this realization hit me like a bullet in full flight and I burst into actual bloody tears in front of Lee. It happened too quickly for me to stop it. And it was embarrassing! Of course it was embarrassing! Blubbering like a baby in front of another man! All of my macho points were lost in that one moment, and equally instantaneously we were back to square one, where I was a weak, foppish, lazy, selfish idiot whose only reaction to anything I didn't like was to whine about how tough everything was on poor little me, and Lee would never like me, never approve, never be my friend.

 

Lee was so incredibly kind. He really was. He didn't seem even to blink. He simply got up and hugged me (hugged me!) in a manly sort of way and then, of course, I thought of Felix Gaeta, the only other man who has ever hugged me, including all of the men I was actually related to, and cried more. But mostly it was my father. And it all just came out, all of it. Everything he'd said to me. Everything I'd said to him. Every time he told me that I was too clever for my own good.  Every time he told me that I, personally, was a waste of everyone's time, told me I existed just to make his life difficult. The way he would declare his open disdain for me in front of the gods and all creation, in front of whosoever happened to be around. The way he fought with my mother about me. He said she spoiled me. She did! For all her cautions, she let me get away with murder! And my brother, whom my father loved, is dead. And I never think of him. Because my father was right about me. And all I did to prove my supposed superiority was turn it all back on him and say the exact same things to him. What a mess.  What an honest to god ~~s~~  mess.

 

I'd stopped crying (thank god!) when Lee had let go, but it kept threatening to start again. Lee looked a bit teary himself, really. Of course, he knows all about what can go on between fathers and brothers and sons.  When I had finished expunging, he put his hand on my knee and did that thing that he does where he sucks in his bottom lip and left his hand there for a long time. “It won't be like that for Felix,” he said, eventually. Then the conversation drifted back to normal and then we went to bed.

 

And it won't. I promise. Before bed, I sat next to his crib for a long time. It won't be like that for Felix.

 

8/2/1

 

Faith is impressed by my sewing. She should be! I was, after all, top of my class. Spending so much time with her, in the late afternoon after everything else I am starting to be able to “talk” with her. I don't think she knows what to make of me, though I suspect she knows I find her attractive. She really is gorgeous. She's so dark, and her eyes are like liquid and her lips are so full. I am trying not to show it too much, though, as it would make problems with Lee ( I said something slightly rakish about her the other night and Lee gave me such a look. Apparently, there's absolutely no room for jest on the subject of Faith.) Also, things are still a bit fragile with C. I am taking as much care as I can to make her feel that everything is alright but it does all feel a bit

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

13/2/2

 

Hello Felix,

Today you are two months old. You are smiling and burbling and moving your arms around, but without too much coordination, I'm afraid. It is adorable, as are you, in general. What I am looking forward to today is taking you out to look at the farm. I like to do this with you every so often, so that you will know this place and know it is your home, and that I love you.   

 

 

 

16/2/2

 

Lee and Faith have gone off somewhere for the day (they'll be back tonight – or, at least, I assume they will, as they left their horses and most of their things.) They've been here about two and a half weeks now and I found out last night that they hadn't really intended to. I don't think Lee meant to say it because he looked quite embarrassed, but I think what happened is that they were just here for the usual overnighter and that they had stayed on because they were

 

well. Not sure how to write this. Worried about me, I think, was the gist. I think Lee is worried about me. I am thinking about it now and it is touching, but unwarranted. Lee's problem is that he is too essentially good-hearted. When something doesn't look how he wants it to look, he immediately thinks he has a job to do. I could be offended by this, really, seeing as I personally am today's job, but I'm not. Not really, anyway. Whatever else Lee is (a busy-body) he is at his fundamental core, right down to the centre of himself, a very nice person. This is worth my remembering it, I think.

 

Dear little Felix is asleep in my other arm. Remember this feeling too.

 

17/2/2

 

Spent most of yesterday making out with C. I don't know how that happened. I was going to go out and do whatever usual work once she had got up and I could see that Felix would be taken care of, but when she did, he was still sleeping and we were all alone and we started to talk. At first just to make noise, I think. She says she feels a lot better about breastfeeding now that I'm being nicer about it – that is, trying to remember that it isn't easy. Then she said she'd talked so much about the hard part that she hadn't told me the good part, the part where it felt so totally natural and right to have Felix there and to feed him and be close with him. She talked a lot about Felix. She does love him. Obviously. I don't think I ever really doubted it, but then, in some ways, I did. I told her this, just to be honest, and she said she knew. As I said it, I regretted it, as I was sure she would get mad, but she didn't, not at all.

 

I started to wonder, then, why she wasn't getting mad. So I asked her, doesn't that offend you, and she said it had, but then, she said, she had remembered who I was. I was, obviously, curious about that, but she wouldn't be drawn. Instead she asked – she is so clever -  if I remembered the conversation we had had before Felix was born. About redemption. About redeeming ourselves through our son. About how that was dangerous. 

 

She knows me so well. I don't know how. She knows me so well, and she doesn't mind. This is the part that I find amazing: why doesn't she mind? I would mind, I think. If I had to spend time with someone like myself. I would be sick of them, the way I am, of myself, whenever I remember that I am there. Then again, I suppose she has been sick of me at various points. But she always comes back. She always wants to come back. I don't know why. I don't know what I did or didn't do or am that makes her love me. I suppose I will never know. It's not like it is for me: I love her because she is strong and good and because she loves me. Sometimes, I love her because she is smart and perceptive and sometimes I love her because she is filthy and perverse, but mostly I love her because she doesn't mind about me.

 

I had all those thoughts. I don't actually remember what I said. I just remember how it felt. Looking at her. Knowing that about her.  I do remember starting to talk about that, though. About how everyone around me was just for me – that I loved her because she loved me, and that Lee was my friend because he liked me, and that Felix I didn't know and so I was trying to make sure that he did, and it was all very confusing, because at the same time I want him to be better than to love me, and also I'm afraid that it will all go horribly wrong and that I'll hurt him somehow. She said I would. But that I wouldn't know how. She said we would hurt each other. That was inevitable. She told me that all one can do is be loving, to try not to hurt each other, and to try to make amends when one does. She also said that what I'd told her about her and Lee, that that wasn't true. She said that it was something there, but it was on top of what was true. Naturally, I wanted to know what the truth was. She said that not knowing was sort of the point. It was what allowed us to find faith.  I'd forgotten this about her – that I'd married a religious philosopher. I used to make fun of it, all those years ago, but now I find it very reassuring. Not it. Her. The recognition that loving me suited her philosophy. It wasn't aberrant. I wasn't ruining her.

 

Shortly afterwards, we kissed. There was nothing else to do, really. Our son slept and I kissed her and kissed her and she kissed me. I got very hard. I want her.

 

 

 

 

 

11/3/2

 

sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex. Alright. Back to work.

 

 

 

 

13/3/2

 

Hello Felix,

 

Today you are three months of age. You are a lot bigger – quite a lot bigger – than you were when you were born, or even than when you were a month younger. Your new trick is putting your fingers in your mouth and sucking on them. You seem to find this beyond fascinating, and I always wonder what you are thinking, because you smile and kick your legs a lot when you are doing it, and you make all sorts of noises, as if you were very absorbed in your thoughts. When I see this, I can never help picking you up and squeezing you and giving you a kiss or two. You don’t always like being picked up when you are so busy, and sometimes you will get very upset that I have taken you away from all your serious work! When this happens, you will not be happy again until you have got hold of my nose, or hair, or put your fingers in MY mouth (just for a change, I assume.) Only then will you forgive me, and let me kiss you as much as I want.

 

Your mother and I have noticed, also, that you like having a bath. I don’t know if you’ll remember that when you are older, but right now, having a bath is just about your favourite thing. You smack your palms in the water to make a splash and have a grand old time. Your mother and I give you your bath together, before you go to bed. She calls it “family time.” I think that’s very nice, really.

 

 

 

 

 

20/3/2

 

Caught the most amazing thing today, coming in. I was dog tired, having not been paying at all enough attention to the meat, and having to go out and get a deer without arranging it with Lee, which actually, took ages. I would have left it, but I'd already left it for almost a week. Then, for some reason, they weren't coming to the normal place and I thought I was going to have to give up. A couple did come, but they weren't in easy places and, well, it doesn't matter. I did get one, and then what I caught was this: Felix makes lots of little coos and gestures, all sorts of things, and here, he was cooing and warbling and C. was with him, saying everything he said right back at him. At this, Felix would look both surprised and delighted and say something else, which she would repeat and on it went. They were both lying on their stomachs, smiling at each other, and it was like they were talking. At first I thought that she might actually be able to understand what he was saying. She told me afterwards that she couldn't, she was just doing it to encourage him, but it really was lovely. I was going to get down on the floor with them, but instead I just stayed watching. I've always been dead set against the baby talk, but Felix seemed to like it so much I might have spoken too soon.

 

21/3/2

 

Couldn't be bothered stripping the deer last night – I'd just hung it up, gutted it, buried the guts and ripped off a leg (which we ate) – so I did it this morning after milking and veges. It was quite a good one in the end and I was pretty determined to get all of the skin in good condition. I've already racked it, and I'll start scraping it tomorrow.

 

Except that I don't care about a dead deer (hello, that rhymes!) Instead, I am writing tonight to foreground the careful suggestion that I might approach my darling, beloved wife for a bit of sex. We've been dancing around it for the past month or so, and I believe the appropriate phrase is “blue balls.” Or, it would be, if I didn't know how to take care of myself, though that doesn't help very much in the face of all the stimulus.

 

Actually, though, it's not all bad. It has a nice, teenaged quality to it, which is to say we kiss and kiss and kiss and neither of us is quite bold enough to take the next step, and there's something about that which has a certain sexy fraughtness to it. A sweetness too. Last night I had my hand up her shirt and on her tit (gently, though, as they are still sore), and I stroked her ass through her panties and she held on to me very tightly, as if she were clinging for dear life, but I haven't asked. It's not a terribly polite question: honey, is your fou-fou well enough for me to put anything in it? Really. So I'm trying to think how I might ask. I'm certainly not going to ask her to go down on me – that would just be too much after everything. And I'd like to frak her, actually. Very slowly.

 

I could just ask her straight out. I think that's what I'll do when we're in bed tonight. But nicely, of course.

 

22/3/2

 

It's funny how she can be so emotionally fragile, so tough, so everything else, all in the same woman. I had a nice surprise last night, because, in fact, she asked me.

 

As it was, I got into bed and she stroked my hair and kissed my temple and whispered it in my ear. The effect of this – obviously - was electric, and I was immediately ready to oblige, though it became exponentially more poignant and lovely, and much less about my own immediate feelings when, once I rolled over to face her, I could see how frightened she was. I almost thought she would cry, or that she didn't want to, but then it became clear that it was because she thought I might not want to. And because she didn't know if everything would be, or feel, the same. How she could think I wouldn't want to I don't know, but I suppose some of that is about her body. It is different, though she has got much thinner again since Felix was born (and her tits are still nice and big, because of the feeding), but since she's mostly been here with Felix and not doing all of her usual things, she's not as pure muscle as she used to be. This is of absolutely no concern to me, but it clearly bothers her (I was trying to listen but I kept being distracted by the fact that she was very, very naked and I was absolutely desperate to do something about that.) I just said loving things and tried to keep my touching gentle, which was hard because all I wanted to do was grab her, and then she put her nose  into the space between my collarbone and my neck and I swear my heart actually fluttered.

 

We didn't get much further than that, because Felix woke up. But it's alright. Now that I know it is going to happen, it's alright. I haven't had sex with my wife for more than four months, but I will. (Actually, I think four months might be the longest I've ever gone since my first time. Never mind. It's probably good for me. I'm sure it's good for me.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

25/3/2

 

It's not good for me! Can't stop thinking about it! Caught self bordering on some seriously jerky behaviour in the last couple of days. Reining it in not easy.

 

Felix, my dearest, most precious child, I love you very much, but do you think you might sleep, just once? Because I want to do awful things to your mother and I can't when you're awake.

 

 

 

 

 

28/3/2

 

It’s official: All my chances are shot.

I’ve done something appalling.

Actually, I think I am something appalling.

 

 

 

 

 

 

30/3/2

 

I had a go at Faith. Stupid, evil, repulsive person. Not her. Me. Obviously. Me.

We were in the smokehouse, she was inspecting the meat (she had come by on her own and the gist was she was trying to tell me how to make it last longer, smoking it better.) We were quite close, looking, and I kissed her, on the mouth. At first I think she was frozen with shock, so I took this as an excuse to slip her a bit of tongue. I put my arms around her, tightly, and it was only after a few moments of complete mental absence that I noticed two things: 1) I was extremely hard and 2) Faith was pummelling me in the chest. I suppose I came to my senses then, because I let her go, and she ran like hell, as fast as possible, away from me. Obviously.

At this point, I’m inclined to speculate as to what I was thinking and I have no answer. Frak. Frak. Idiot.

 

1/4/2

 

Lee. Oh god. Lee.

 

Telegram for Lee Adama! Your supposed friend is a would-be rapist. Also, ~~He~~ it hasn’t changed in the slightest. Sorry! That’ll teach you to have faith (ha!ha!) in your fellow man (shaped creature.)

 

Drunk.

 

 

 

 

 

3/4/2

 

No word from either of them. Has Faith decided not to tell? Maybe she can’t tell. Said nothing to C. Hope I won’t have to. Sword of Damocles.

 

Every time C. says something sexy I feel like I’m drowning in liquid guilt. But it was just a kiss. Wasn’t it? 

 

Worse: She could tell I was drunk the other night too. I don’t hide it that well.

 

Worse still: C. put her hand near my bits last night and I flinched. She knows something is wrong. Must be more careful. Must simply just put it out of my mind.

 

 

 

 

 

 

5/4/2

 

Drunk in smokehouse. Realization: when nobody's having sex with me I think nobody loves me. Striking. Contemplate that, eternity! Everyone should care! It’s important! I’m really important! And more to the point, I may have Dodged The Bullet - No Lee, or Faith. Perhaps it hasn’t happened. Best not to say anything.

 

Something hideous is in there and I don’t know what it is and even though sometimes I have these little realizations come, from nowhere, as if by divine inspiration, as if I were, honestly, half conscious, and I think they’re terribly insightful, I don’t look and I’m horrified of looking. I don’t know what’s in there. Something bad is making me do these bad things. I thought I had done all this work and was different but I haven’t and I’m not. I’m just an adulterous twat and I always was and I always will be and there’s no point working at it or trying to change it because that is what I AM. I thought I had changed and I haven’t. I am exactly the frakking same, and that’s all the proof I need.

 

6/4/2

 

I can’t write about Gina. Maybe Kara.

 

Some time ago – years now – I had sex with Kara Thrace. I had just been elected Vice President of the Colonies, and there was a lot of drinking and dancing and we ended up in bed (I write that like it was accidental, but I had designs on her all along. It was extremely deliberate on my part, and more than a little manipulative. Thrace was a very tough woman, but I think she was too drunk to say no to me. Let that sit with you a while, you disgusting bastard. How does that make you feel?) Then, while we were at it, she called out Lee's name. I was going to keep going but then she got up and left.

 

At the time, My Guardian Angel accused me of loving her, and while I denied it, I thought she was right. But she was wrong. I didn't love her. I wanted her because she didn't want me. Having Kara was a win, of sorts, and when she left, something happened. At first it was pure fury, because she had come and I hadn't, but then it was

 

what was it? what’s the word? stupid drunk brain won’t work properly when I want it to. Stupid drunk person isn’t working. frak. frak. Worse than my father.

 

Loathing. It was loathing. Pure frakking loathing. Not of Kara. Of myself, of course, not Kara. I look back now, and it's like my entire being was just a thin crust over top of a pool of unnameable sensation. It was chimera, masks, nothing real. I didn't exist. I was simply comprised or constituted out of desperate actions, like so many ambulances at the bottom of so many cliffs, as if I was forever throwing myself together the instant it was required of me because someone was looking. On my own, I was never there. I imagine I took it out on Kara (I don’t imagine, I know, because I was there,) but really, it was me. I wasn't there because I didn't want to look. I didn't want to know what she had rejected. But at the same time, she was right! She was right to creep away in disgust. And I knew that instantly. So I wouldn’t look but I’ve always known.

 

It was guilt. Yes. Absolutely. Absolutely guilt. Shame and regret, and all those other things. But also, not that. It is much more essential than that. Another person might have dealt with the guilt by confession and sacrifice, but I didn't, I buried it. Some of it was pure selfishness, but some of it was that I didn't believe in it. And some of it was because, being who I ~~was~~ am, which is to say, floating uneasily on top of an endless pool of indescribably dark, black waters, always close to drowning, I didn't see it as any different from anything I already was.

 

This is what I am: I wasn't really there, and I wasn't really real. I wasn't really human. I didn't exist. When Kara didn't love me, she refused to make me real. Everybody else had to make me real because I couldn't do it without looking. I can't do it. I am in the smokehouse right now, writing this with a lamp, thinking about C. and not having had sex together and then, Faith, and I can't do it.

 

But she loves me and I know because she’s said it oh, only a million times, and besides, we have a son together. And she wanted to – always. Years ago, she told me that, that she'd wanted to from the start. Felix was there, always, in her, in her heart. And the only reason we haven't had it off with each other is because it's not been practical.  It's all fine. It's all fine and well and good. If I can stop drinking and writing angsty journals in the smokehouse and flinching every time she touches me. She wants me to talk. She keeps asking me to talk but I can’t tell her. I can’t tell her. It doesn’t help. It doesn’t change it. Something still made me do that to Faith. It can’t have been me because I wasn’t even there.

 

27/4/2

 

I hate myself. I've said that so many times. It was never totally true. I now realise that that was because the full force of that realization makes me sick to my literal stomach. My hatred of myself actually makes me physically nauseous.

 

Kara wouldn't give me a place to stand on to make myself alright. She was tough and real and honest and if she would have, I would have been alright. And Gina wouldn’t. And I wanted her to so much because then I would have been good. Gina wouldn’t make me good. Nobody would. Nobody can.

 

Also, Felix Gaeta did. And this terrified me. Because I didn't deserve it. So I punished him for being such a fool as to give it to me. I knew I'd destroyed him, but I didn't know why. The truth is this: it wasn't in spite of his loving me. It was because of it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

9/4/2

 

C. and I made love last night and it was wonderful. I love her. She is wonderful.

 

But it's not alright.

 

It's not alright.

 

It's not alright.

 

I was right there but I didn't feel anything.

 

 

10/4/2

 

She knows something is wrong. She wants to talk. Just keep it level. Keep it level. Don’t think about Faith. Don't think about any of it. ~~Don't think about what you did to Gina.~~

 

Shit! Shit! Shit! She thinks it's about her! She thinks something is wrong with her! FRAKKING JERK! GODDAM YOU FRAKKING BASTARD. Keep it level.

 

 

11/4/2

 

Lee found out when Faith wouldn’t come. He was coming to bring us some cuttings and she wouldn’t come. That’s how he knew. She wasn’t even going to tell but I frightened her so much that she couldn’t hide it.

 

C. heard everything. She was holding our son, standing barefoot, ponytail. She has since called me some strikingly accurate names.

 

Felix alone has forgiven me. He must be stupid after all. Can't even bring myself to touch him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

13/4/2

 

~~Lee~~

~~  
~~

~~I was standing outside~~

~~  
~~

~~I think Lee had been thinking about how to~~

 

I can’t even write about it. I want to. I keep trying. I want to somehow make it gone. I want it out of me and it won’t come.

 

 ~~The worst part was his face.~~  The worst part was his face. At first he didn’t believe it and he thought there might have been a mistake. I wanted to lie and say she had made a mistake. Tell him that she was lying. That’s what I wanted to do. God help me, I almost did. It was so hard not to tell that lie that the only way I could do it was to say absolutely nothing. ~~Then his face changed and it was~~

 

These are the words he said to me and I write them down because they are absolutely true. He said:

“You bastard! You just won't rest until you've frakked up everyone who cares about you, will you? I don't even think you can help it.”

 

I thought he would hit me, but he didn't. He just walked away. Lee is gone from my life now. I will never see him again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

16/4/2

 

I raped her. I raped Gina. I committed a rape. Faith is just part of a pattern.

 

That isn't totally true, is it? I didn't actually force myself on her, on Gina. Just emotionally. Just after she'd been raped over and over again by other, perhaps marginally more evil human beings. I just kept needing and needing her to save me, to assemble me, and then she let me do it with her. And then she killed herself with the bomb I gave her and blew up half the fleet. And then the rest of the Cylons came. That's all I did.

 

Twice, I saw the scars on her back. I knew. I still did it.

 

She looked exactly like my wife.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

18/4/2

 

I’m not sure I can do this. After the first day, and the names, C. just hasn’t said anything, really. I asked her (alright, I shouted. Yes, I did another, horrible, jerky thing and shouted at my wife) if she was going to and she told me that she was thinking about it. She said she didn’t know how she felt about it herself. She said at this point she was just disappointed that I could do something so hurtful to Lee and, more importantly, so disgusting to Faith. She said she was still thinking about the adultery. “I’m not sure it’s adultery,” she said, “we're not married.” She was so calm.

 

She then gave me a look. A thinking look. I know what she was thinking: are you too repulsive of a human being for me to live with? Am I, I mean to say. All my bluster was sucked out of me when she gave me that look. She's absolutely, totally right to wonder, and god help me, I knew it in my soul.

 

Frak everything. Frak every frakking thing. Felix is the only good thing I ever did and the longer I stay, the greater the chance he'll be ruined. She might not have decided but I bloody have.

 

 

 

 

 

 

20/4/2

 

Writing this from bed. Face still hurts. C. caught me before I was done and I think some of it was just pure reaction, because she gave me a black eye. I forgot she could hit quite so hard.

 

21/4/2

 

Can't stop thinking about Lee. But then again, I don't deserve to.

 

There's just blackness here and C. is not sleeping in the bed. She won't let me hold Felix, either. I can hear him in the other room, but she won't let me talk to him. She hasn't said anything (not a single word, actually.) I think I really hurt her this time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

28/4/2

 

Got up. Farm looks pretty good, considering. C. has obviously done quite a bit of work while I was semi-AWOL. She still hasn't spoken to me since I pulled my stunt– not one word, not even about anything mundane. Actual silence, for a whole week. But today, when I was sitting, thinking, out the front, she popped Felix in my lap and went into the vegetables, so I could see her. The fact that she hasn't spoken, then, possibly means two things: not just that she doesn't want to talk to me, but also that she doesn't want to tell me to leave.

 

It's all well over my head right now, to be honest. She's been making me breakfast too, and I have no idea what that means. Felix, however, is straightforward: small and firm and warm and full of smiles. I think he was glad to see me today, silly child. He doesn't know, though he should, that I'd left him alone for a reason.

 

There were so many feelings in that moment: the feeling of holding my son, feeling him try to hold me back, feeling us both being really there, outside, in the real, physical world, but they are far and away too complex and too powerful and too sad for me to describe. Each time I have paused, I have thought seriously about how to write them, and I have absolutely nothing. I am thinking and thinking and thinking and thinking, but sensation persists just outside of my grasp. Contemplating all of this makes me beyond exhausted. Felix is asleep now. I may join him.

 

29/4/2

 

I have no idea how to make sense of this. I can't even rewrite it for succinctness or anything. As far as I'm aware, this actually happened to me, yesterday, maybe an hour after I'd finished with the previous entry.

 

SCENE: Self and Felix sitting out front of house. C. in garden. I am alternately napping, playing with Felix and feeling sorry for myself.

 

LEE ADAMA: (Entering stage left) Hi, Doc, how are you?

SELF: (Stunned silence.)

LEE: Look, Caprica told me what happened.

SELF: What are you doing here, Lee?

LEE: I don't know. Hey, can I? (Sits down) Thanks.

SELF: (Continued silence and wild confusion.)

LEE: (Reflexive silence? He wasn't looking at me, anyway.)

SELF: Lee. You will never know how sorry I ... truly... am.

LEE: Uh huh.

SELF: Really, Lee.

LEE: (Faith's name) told me to forgive you.

SELF: She's forgiven...? I want to tell her that I... apologise.

LEE: No, I think it'll be a while before she wants to talk to you. I don't think she has.

SELF: I can't say that I blame her.

LEE: Neither can I.

SELF: I'm sorry, Lee.

LEE: Uh huh.

(Respective silences.)

LEE: She said – (Faith) – that I didn't have any right to be angry with you. She said that she did, because you were aggressive and disgusting, but I didn't. I don't know if I agree with that – I mean, we have a relationship and you didn't respect that. But she didn't like that I acted as if I owned her.

SELF: I do. Respect that. I'm just a (thinks) catastrophic asshole.

LEE: Yes, you are. And that means you don't. Respect me. Those two things are related.

SELF: (Registers the striking accuracy.) I will never cease to be amazed at how well you two communicate without speaking.

LEE: Oh, she said this in words.

SELF: She can speak?

LEE: Yeah, some, now. She's just not very confident with it. She doesn't speak that often, which is how I knew that it was kind of a big deal to her.

SELF: (Wonders where this is going.)

LEE: Look, if what I said to you... had anything to do with...

SELF: No. Lee. No.

LEE: Then what frakking excuse do you have for trying to do that to your son?

SELF: For...?

LEE: (Demonstrates the patented and terrifying “Adama Glare”.)

SELF: I don't understand why it matters to you.

LEE: Because you're my friend.

SELF: (Stunned silence.)

LEE: You made a pass at my girlfriend, okay, and I'm pretty angry with you. It was a jerky, disrespectful thing to do. It makes me distrust you and it makes me want to... well, I can see you got hit already and I'm not sorry. But..look, I guess I know you pretty well by now. I'm angry with you, but you're my friend.

SELF: (Stares.)

LEE: Look, it took a long time for me to learn how that worked too. This is the benefit of years of reflection you're getting here. You just have to say things, when you mean them, when they're true. This life we lead does not offer us infinite chances to do that, and there are a lot of chances I'll always wish I'd taken.

SELF: (Cries a little bit.) Yes.

LEE: This is how it is: the fact that I now know beyond a doubt that you are... the world's sleaziest shitheel and we're going to have to find some way to work that out, that fact doesn't mean that I've stopped... loving you.

SELF: (Cries in earnest. Lee is used to it, after all.)

LEE: Some of it makes sense to me. Who you are.

SELF: I am so sorry.

LEE: But I'm not going to tell you... you have a son. You and I both know what that means.

SELF: (Long silence.) I know what it means.

LEE: Okay. (Long silence.)

SELF: (Sighs pathetically.) I think the word for me is “damaged.”

LEE: Yep. I... Yep.

SELF: I...uh...

LEE: Right. (Gets up.)

SELF: Lee...

LEE: Not yet, okay. Not yet. (Looks like he's going to say something else. Doesn't.)

SELF: (Thinks hard.)

LEE: (Pats me on the shoulder. Leaves.)

SELF: (Stares amazed.)

 

I think this actually happened. Did this actually happen? It seemed completely real. It seemed like what happened was that Lee came back, and he didn't forgive me, but he implied that he would. It seemed like everything isn't

 

but it's possible that it just happened in my head. That is completely possible, even to the point of being quite likely. I've definitely been known to see things that aren't entirely there.  And I want Lee so much. I miss him with my whole heart. He is exactly the kind of thing I would invent.

 

30/4/2

 

C. tells me Lee was really there. She also tells me that the attempted suicide bothers her far more than the attempted cheating. She finally spoke. I really wish she hadn't.

 

When she said that, I said quite sarcastically, (because, when one's wife hasn't spoken to one in as many days, the true genius opens with sarcasm,) that I would have thought that was a given. She sighed then and told me that the issue was not my attempting to die, but my self-dramatizing reaction to a problem that was my responsibility to address, and that could, and should have been dealt with through adult dialogue. She said I should have been man enough to admit it and deal with the consequences of finding out how she felt about it, and that while she didn't want her son to loose his father, she had very little sympathy for me over the whole thing. I did try to tell her about Gina, but she was unmoved. She said “we are not interchangeable.” Then she said that she had a real baby now, and she wasn't interested in babying a grown man. This is somewhat inconsistent with things she'd said on the subject previously, and I said so. She then said that she’d been through this with me already and that I wasn't serious about trying to work it out then she wished I WOULD kill myself. It was a very cold thing to say – cruel, actually - which I told her. Then, I put my head in my hands and sobbed pathetically and refused to say anything else until she went away. Which she did! Without comforting me at all! My heart, of course, is literally broken. It actually stings. I have a horrible, physical pain, and there’s no way to fix it except to talk to her, which I won't, ever, until she apologises, the unsympathetic toaster bitch.

 

Upon reflection, though, she did make sort of a fair point, and I am, demonstrably, sulking (she pointed this out too, of course. Helpful, C. Really helpful. Do you know, I don’t think I feel bad enough. Could you rub it in some more? Bitch. Again: bitch.) So: I am forced to (try to) think about what Lee said. Can they both love me despite of not actually liking me? Really? It would seem counter-intuitive. I would have thought I had demonstrated beyond argument exactly why care and affection for me was an enterprise doomed for failure and better off left alone. Still, here we are. She did stop me from doing it, and Lee is my friend and loves me. It’s immaterial now anyway, as I've entered this state where everything appears equivalent and it's as if none of these things have any more feeling attached than the others, so I don't know what to think or what to do. By proxy, I suppose I am choosing to do nothing, which I think, actually, is what C. is complaining about. Still, she is clearly as confused as I am, because I read so much concern in her eyes, so much desire to make it better for me. But then she said that bitter, nasty, bitchy thing. Either way, she's obviously decided on tough love, or just toughness. But I don't know if it's for Felix or for me.

 

My hurt feelings are slightly mitigated by one memory, from after she caught me, after she hit me in the face (I still have the shiner but it's a lot better) and wrestled me down. Once we were back in the house, she held me. Too tightly for me to move away, but too softly to hurt me. Without speaking, she held me until I fell asleep. That was very kind of her. Considering all the things she had to manage in that space of time, it was very kind.

 

1/5/2

 

What she's decided on is that she really can't be responsible for both Felix and I. And she wants to know, once and for all, whether she and Felix were (her words) my family, or not. If not, she said, then I could, and should, go away in any manner of my choosing, and her responsibility to her son would, and would always, take precedence over her relationship with me. I was quite hurt. Wouldn't you be at all sad? I said, to which she replied: that's immaterial, and, you're fishing. Of course I was fishing. I wanted her to cry and tell me that she loved me. I want everyone to make me feel better, despite the fact that I tried to have sex with someone else, and then tried to leave her and my son alone with a corpse instead of admitting it.

 

I'm not sure I can help it. She herself pointed out that we'd never actually discussed monogamy, though we had both assumed it. That isn't the point, though. The point is the decision. The point is my deciding how to act, and acting that way, not waiting for cues from everyone else and doing what I have decided to do regardless. I can see that, I can understand it, and it makes complete sense. It is absolutely logical and sensible and intuitively sound. I'm just not sure if I can do it. I suspect I simply wasn't built that way. So, then, my decision was the right one. Except it was wrong. It doesn't make any sense.

 

I'M JUST NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR ANY OF THIS. That's the absolute truth. Self-pity is easier, and when I catch myself doing it, and am forced to recognise how awful it is, I just feel worse.

 

2/5/2

 

Could I marry her? Would that solve it? Actual marriage? With religion and rings and every other piece of crap that a true, traditional marriage entails? A ceremony? A series of public promises? Friends (ha!ha!) and (ha!ha!) family?

 

Asked. She said no.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4/5/2

 

I read my diaries from the very beginning this morning. Have noticed that I've pretty much had the same problem forever. I'm going to write down what I did upon making this discovery: made an audible sigh. So audible, in fact, that Felix looked up.

 

I clearly have work to do. I clearly have a lot of work to do. The fact that I am bored of this work, and more than that, utterly exhausted by it, does not change the fact that it needs to be done. Attempting to hang myself was, in fact, utter bollocks. And I'm pretty certain I did not intend to die. I keep kidding myself that I did, but if that was the case, why did I leave the notes where I knew she would find them right away. Why did I do it in a place I knew she would look? No wonder she's fed up with me. It was not only selfish, it was obvious. More than that, it was pathetic and appallingly pedestrian.

 

Reading the diaries, I sometimes wonder whether writing them is the problem. I thought they helped. Up until Felix was born, they appeared to help me a lot, but then, now, I think, they are becoming an exercise in self-indulgence. I realise too, how little I had really thought about Felix. On the one hand, he appears to me as precious and fully human, but then on the other hand, he is little else than an extension of myself, or in comparison to me – that is, pure where I am polluted. If he's ever going to have a chance at growing up sane (unlike his Papa,) I've got to pull finger, forget about myself and just be his father.

 

5/5/2

 

Yesterday, Felix and I went for a walk. I carried him and talked to him and he talked to me in his baby words, so I tried C.'s trick of repeating them back. He simply beamed. He's quite good with his hands now too– he can pick up things and hold them and pass them around and offer them to me or take them from me and give them a good suck. He likes buttons, so I've started to keep my eye on him whenever I'm wearing my lonesome button shirt or one of my jackets in case he accidentally eats one. The green one, especially, which has epaulettes and he does like to suck on the button when I carry him against my shoulder.

 

The feelings, though, were the same as always. The way I feel about him is alright. There's nothing wrong with it. I love him very much and some of those reasons are alright too. He is my son, and I love him. It's the way I think about it afterwards that's wrong – the fact that it all has to be part of one big story. I think back to C.'s brilliant observation of 17/2. That you can't predict. You can't know. You just have to try to do as well as you can. I think this might be very good advice for me. I also think back to the discovery that I couldn't actually be perfect or evil and that an experience of one state was not an excuse to assume it completely. Gently does it, Gaius. Gently does it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

13/5/2

 

Hello Felix,

 

I'm sorry.

What you should know is that, if anything, you made me want to stay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

15/5/2

 

She still doesn't really trust me. She's a bit closed off right now and it's hard to talk to her, though I'm aware that it's not as much about Faith as it is about the suicide. Still. And that I didn't talk to her before. I am trying not to be angry about that or push it, because I think I understand. If I want her to trust me again, I'm going to have to earn it. Being patient is not one of my strong suits, but this is exactly the kind of thing that I need to learn.

 

So I've just been working. I have put in corn, and it seems to be going alright, though it is taking a lot of upkeep. It will be good, though, I think. I presume the fundamentals of milling are the same as for wheat, and I do wonder if this could be done on a small, non-industrial scale. I have no idea how to go about this. Milling was done entirely by machine when I was a boy, and my knowledge of pre-industrial milling is large scale and scientifically technical, though I'm certain it can be done by hand. And then: cornmeal! Will the excitement never end?

 

16/5/2

 

In my old life, corn was so used to being cultivated by people that it wouldn’t grow without human intervention. This corn, I am sure, is different, and not just in appearance. However, it is still a frakking pain in my frakking neck.

 

I kicked a couple of stalks today. They broke beautifully and it was rather satisfying.

 

17/5/2

 

Little conversation today that was quite promising. The corn is causing me no end of irritation, which I had told her, and she and Felix came out for a look. She looked at it for quite a long time before concluding that she had nothing useful to offer, but that she thought it looked fine. This thought was so earnestly presented, and so clearly a peace offering that I burst out laughing and so did she, and then Felix got caught up in it and laughed too. It was adorable. I thought: that’s my family. That’s my wife and my son. I think she thought the same thing, because she smiled, and with her eyes. I shouldn’t have tried to leave them. It was a stupid thing to do.

 

We talked a bit more after that, not about much, but the impression that she actually wanted to talk to me was a revelation. I might be allowed back in the bed soon if I play my cards right.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

19/5/2

 

I am still planning to go down to the village and see Lee. I keep thinking it over, thinking, maybe I should wait for him to come, to be sure that he wants to, but I think it’s better if I go to him. I also think it should be me who takes the initiative to apologise to Faith. Actually, that’s just frakking obvious. She’s hardly going to wander up here and wait around for me to apologise. That's ridiculous. It is ridiculous. Every now and then, I encounter a fantasy like that, though, and it's very persuasive.

 

I’ve been thinking about it since I saw him. It makes me ashamed, and more than that, scared. This is probably the best indicator I have that it needs to be done, because if I wait for him it’s still all about me. Every now and then, I have a full body recollection of his presence and his words of 29/4. A recollection that he’s my friend, and what that means.

 

20/5/2

 

Darling Felix. He has learned to roll over onto his tummy all on his own. It’s a bit harder for him to get back on to his back, but he’s getting there. His arms are engaged, as well as his little feet, as if he’s figuring out what they all do. I suspect crawling is not far off. We’ll have to do something about that, actually. It’s not as if we have a lot of things, but many of them could easily be put in his mouth, and/or be subject to disarray, so I plan to set aside some time for crawling around myself and seeing what could be got into. Also, C. tells me she has started to sit him between her legs when she is sitting down, as she thinks this will encourage him to sit on his own. Upon reflection, I am inclined to agree.

 

What I have started to look forward to is his first word. I wonder what it will be. He tries to talk all the time, and sometimes he actually seems upset when I don’t understand but just pretend to (which is always, because he hasn’t said any actual words yet.) He knows, I think, that somehow we’re missing each other, and he is really trying to communicate. Sometimes he gives me the most quizzical look, almost raising one eyebrow (insomuch as he has eyebrows at this stage of his life, which isn’t very much.)  We spend a lot of time looking at each other these days, and it strikes me just how much he is really there, thinking, getting ready to speak.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

26/5/2

 

Just been to see Cottle. He said it will be time for weaning pretty soon and gave me some tips for C. They are as follows:

Start by reducing to one feeding a day.

Gradually is better than suddenly.

If too sudden, the breasts tend to become engorged and leak more (they'll leak some regardless.)

It's alright to stop and go back, and he might not wean fully till he is past a year.

Make sure to compensate for lost time spent together with physical affection, because that will lessen some of his upsetness.

Expressing the milk independently of Felix will help, and will probably need to be done for a few weeks even once he is weaned completely.

Cold packs can help with the pain and swelling.

If it hurts too much, it's too soon.

 

And that's all very well but I'm still too much of a coward to go and see Lee and Faith. That's what I'm doing here, of course. But I can't.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

30/5/2

 

Home again this evening. Felix delighted, and I am equally so. I did miss him and I was worried about them but it was a little bit over shadowed by the pure intensity of Lee and Faith. Or, Faith and Lee, I should say, because that's really the crux of the whole matter. Lee had pretty much forgiven me entirely, I think, in so much as it was his place to do so, but his manner has changed. Like C., I think, declarations matter a lot less to him than actions. After talking to Faith I did some work with him on the crops, and we didn't talk much, but that was alright. I think, with Lee, what I'm going to have to do is just be there, and not be a jerk. Not say so many arrogant things (I don't always write them, but I do always say them.) He did get quite confessional on the last night that I was there, but it wasn't for me. It was as if he said things he couldn't stop. Some of them were revelatory but I'm not in a hurry to write them down as it's all a bit much like gossip.

 

He wanted to stay when I came but Faith made him leave. She was quite firm. He wanted to protect her, obviously, but she wouldn't have it. They might have had a few fights about that – it had the body language of an old fight. It's a bit mean, really. I thought it was, anyway. That's just who Lee is, and there's nothing wrong with that. However, I suppose I understand that she didn't want him to fight her battles for her. I think Faith's people are quite sexist, and I think part of the appeal of Lee is that he isn't – or at least not demonstrably so. He's used to strong women, anyway. So they clashed a bit and then he left, and then I apologised to her as earnestly as I could. Her response was confusing.

 

A lot happened in Faith's eyes. They changed several times, and then she made a gesture which is difficult to describe in words, but in combination with her facial expression and general body language, it clearly meant “I have had enough of men!” Then she did speak: “wants!” she said, pushing her fingers to her temples, opening her eyes very wide and sort of pushing her hands out. I don't know if the statement was a broad recognition of the desire and want inherent to living, (more probable) meant to indicate that a lot of men found her attractive. What I got, also, though I doubt she meant to imply this, was a sort of pure frustration at the fact that engaging with men, ever, meant being aware that they would construct one along whichever lines they saw fit. I had this thought, and recognised it as somewhat true but I don't know that it came from her. I was thinking this, actually, when she threw a fruit at me. She didn't get up or look particularly angry, she just threw a fruit. It didn't burst, either, so she can't have thrown it very hard. Then she sighed.

 

“I am a jerk,” I said, making what I hoped was an appropriate face. It must have been because her eyes said “no shit.” I then repeated my apology, and she shrugged. “Doesn't change,” she said. She made a cradle gesture which presumably referred to Felix. I didn't quite understand the relationship and then it suddenly occurred to me: it's hard for me to talk to Faith because I'm not genuine. What's on the outside is not what's on the inside, or, at least, not often. I think and I think but I don't feel. Or, I feel and then I try to manipulate, or mediate it. The barrier to our communication isn't speaking Colonial, it is honesty, in that in order to speak without words honesty is absolutely required. It's no wonder that it's not as hard for Lee – because Lee is himself, all the time, and everything he does communicates that, so it doesn't matter if every word gets across. The same applies to C. I had all these realizations in this moment and then it occurred to me that I had not said anything for ages and Faith was still looking at me. So I said, “it doesn't matter about my wife, or Lee. It doesn't matter why I did it or what pattern it is a part of. It just matters that it was a disrespectful thing to do to another person.” She didn't look like she understood. So I walked over and took both her hands. She looked like she knew it was against her better judgement but she let me. Then I just looked at her, looked in her eyes, and tried to convey, as much as I could, that I honestly knew that she was a human being. We sat there, unmoving, for some time. Then she removed one of her hands from mine and slapped me, quite hard, on the side of my head. It actually did hurt, but it was so completely out of the blue that I didn't know whether to whine or to laugh so I just sort of flailed a bit. Then she put her hand, palm down, on the top of my head as if to stop me, as if to calm an animal or a child. I felt both patronised and reassured by this and the confusion between the two started to make me angry until I looked at her again. It was clear that I'm not entirely forgiven. But she's not afraid of me any more either, so I suppose that's fair enough. Especially since she let me stay. The impression was very much that I am no longer at all important to her, if I ever was. That's better, really. It is better. It's as it should be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

4/6/2

 

It's good to be tired again, an actual honest tiredness, instead of this emotional exhaustion which I am so heartily sick of. My wife, I now realize, is remarkably insightful, about many things, beyond her more than competent understanding of me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

6/6/2

 

I wasn't going to but I can't not. What's wrong with me that I can't just keep things in my head where they belong I don't know, but here it is: Lee told me he had cheated on Anastasia, with Kara. That's why he was able to forgive me so easily. Lee the Galactic Hero is a cheater!

 

Anybody with eyes knew they loved each other. That much was obvious. Especially to me with regard to Kara (oh, so hilarious!) But honestly, I never thought he would do that sort of thing, because, of course, I thought he was perfect. And, actually, I think I always did. It's just amazing beyond all recognition to finally understand that nobody is. I suppose even that appallingly twee cliché has a root in an actual fact: nobody's perfect, and that is the total truth. Not even Lee. For some reason that has a great depth of meaning to me. I hope he'll talk about it some more, because, frankly, I'd like to know more about it. Though I don't know when that will be, since we didn't make any plans.

 

7/6/2

 

That's the way I treat women!  Luring them into intimacy, and doing confusing emotional violence, which is then followed by patronising reassurance! I think Faith might be a bit of a genius. When I put that together with all those thoughts I had when we were talking, about my genuineness, or lack thereof (she might have meant for me to realise that.) I'm forced to conclude that the way she handled the whole thing was both compassionate and brilliant. She didn't have to teach me that. She could have just refused to speak to me. But instead she made me have a feeling that was like the feeling I made her have: a mixture of anger, confusion and powerlessness.

 

The problem is, ascribing her with all this conversational power is also constructing her in relation to me, which I am aware she would not like. However, the fact that I am even still thinking about these things just makes me think she is more of a genius. It was clever. It was really, really clever. I think I'm just going to have to come to terms with the fact that I have a little bit of a genuine crush on her. But quietly. Because for obvious reasons I know she'd rather I didn't. Still, I'm quite proud of having finally figured it out.

 

8/6/2

 

Not women. Anyone who loves me.

 

Also, I'm going to stop calling her Faith. That isn't her name. If she'd wanted me to make her a word, she would have told it to me.

 

9/6/2

 

Now I'm confused again! I give up! I have work to do anyway and I've been starting at this frakking page forever! Who knows what she meant. Just so long as she's alright and she knows I'm sorry.

 

 

 

 

 

13/6/2

 

Hello Felix,

 

Do you know, having you in my life makes me think very differently about time. Time, in the sense that one experiences it as duration, is remarkably variable (which, of course, pertains to the fact that its existence is both lived and spatial, insomuch as it even “exists” in the traditional sense.) This has never been plainer to me than it is today, as I contemplate the fact that it has been six months since you were born. You are six months more of a person than you were. You have changed so rapidly and so much but at the same time you are only becoming more of yourself, and there aren't so much “moments” as there is a continuum, even as it is represented as, or perceived as “moments” by me. In my own personal time-line, six months passes as both a blur and as a series of discreet punctures, yet equally, what I have just written about you must also apply to me, and to everyone else, everywhere, ever. These six months have a thousand different “times.” And, as always, as they have come, they are gone. You will never be six months old again. I will never write these words again. The reason I wrote them, however, remains eternal.

 

14/6/2

 

Yesterday's letter to Felix makes me fancy doing some pure science again. Everything I've done for about 3 years now has applied to practice, but I think, soon, I would like to do some math for the sake of math, the way I used to before everything else came into it, back when I found the universe genuinely fascinating in and of itself, rather than a means to an end. I don't know how old I was when that changed, I only know that it did. And that it seems it seems to be changing back.

 

In the mean time, I might set myself a scratch problem or two, but the real truth is that I am looking forward to teaching him. Sometimes I imagine it and it seems like that's the sole point of having all this left over information in here: to teach Felix. I want to teach him absolutely everything, from the ground up, from quantum mechanics to biochemistry to fluid dynamics and everything else I can think of, everything in between. All about the planets and binary systems and the minute impracticalities of everything – the pure, real beauty of ordering the world, of ~~making sense~~  attempting to make sense of the senseless.

 

I'm going to put that fantasy aside for now, though, because the last thing I want to do is hurry him into growing up. Every moment is precious. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

17/6/2

 

Weaning is about as hard as feeding was back in the first place, apparently. Over the past month or so, Felix has deigned to accept some sterilised deer milk or an occasional cup of water, but now we're trying cold turkey he is less than impressed. When he wants the tit, he wants the tit. He is, after all, his father's son (incidentally, I suppose he has my last name, as she doesn't have one. Unless “Six” counts. I should ask.)

 

C.'s been trying to get him to eat some mashed up pumpkin for most of the day, but not had much luck. He is still crying, and she has her hand that's not around him on her left breast and her right one has soaked clear through her top. She looks very tired. I had a turn when I came in for lunch and it went everywhere except in Felix, but I might have another go just to give her a break and a lie down.

 

What I wanted to write was this: sore breasts aside, it is amazing that when Felix cries, his mother produces milk. That's amazing. They're two separate bodies but they work together.

 

18/6/2

 

Drinks with Lee. He wanted to talk about Kara, which was alright because I wanted to listen. Then, he cried. Not much, but a bit. I put my arm around him. I think he'd wanted to talk about her for a long time, because his visit was fairly purposeful. I put my arm around him, around his shoulders.

 

I'm actually writing now with the arm I put around him.

 

 

 

 

 

24/6/2

 

Still thinking about Lee from the other night. There was a strange moment of power in that. I think it was hard for him to give that up. I think part of who he is, or who he thinks he is, is the person who cares, not the person who's cared for. Funny, when I think Lee might have something to learn from me.

 

Funnier, actually, that there's something I think I know. Because I do know that. It's not contingent on proofs. Work to do, though. The result of a system that is no longer producing work is chaos and I've had enough entropy. In this sense I might consider my own “personal journey” (I hate that phrase. It's like it's straight out of some appalling low-brow self help seminar. But there it is: personal journey) to be readable in terms of physics: actions, reactions and motion. If I'm competent there (and I am) and if I have, at times, proven to be competent reading the laws of physics into society en masse (and I have) I might also learn to be competent with myself in the same way. If I just use science. If I just treat myself as if I were a phenomenon. I would have dominances and I would have tendencies but then, underneath it all, I might be able to consider myself as also a part of the universe, and my dominances need not be entirely bad. A part of the puzzle. And if that were really true then it's me that gets to make choices about that. But then it's too much me, again, so we're back to square one.

 

I'm actually terribly bored with this. I don't think it has an answer. It's just a series of beginnings. There's no end.  My latest revelation is that I think it might be alright to just be a sort of garden variety dickish person.  It'd be good to be less dickish, obviously, but being a not very important dick isn't the worst thing in the world. Not when I consider the alternative.  One doesn't have to be a genius to figure that out, though it helps.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

13/7/2

 

Hello Felix,

 

As I write, you are sitting up on your wolfie playing with three mandarins. You are very absorbed in them, actually. It took you a little while to respond when your mother said your name a moment ago, just to say hello. She misses you a bit at the moment because she is working a lot more on the farm.

 

You are seven months old today, and tomorrow we will both be older. This fact, and the scratch problems I've been playing with recently have illustrated the following: I don't know very much about the world.

 

I don't mind too much about that, though, or not as much as I did. There is a great deal of compensation in what I do know: that I do, and will always, love you very, very much.

 

 

 

 

 

 

13/8/2

 

Hello Felix,

 

As I write, you are sucking on the bottom of my trousers, and intermittently making a sort of “bop!” noise. My understanding is that this is a not very subtle hint for me to come and play with you instead of doing boring writing. And, since you crawled all the way over here from where you were sitting to tell me this, I will keep it brief. So: you are crawling like a demon already and yesterday you crawled into the garden when we were out the front. You then helped yourself to a mouthful of dirt, which made you cry. Still, it could have been a snail, and it almost was.

 

The very good news is, you might have someone more fun than me to play with soon, because Lee and the person he loves are having a child. Not for a little while, of course, but time tends to go pretty fast these days. What do you think about that?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

20/8/2

 

My diary is quite readable, really. I read it from end to end just now, while I'm outisde having an afternoon cup of tea while Felix is napping (it's not bad, really, this semi-house-husbanding. I'm even getting a bit better at cooking.) At any rate, some of it was quite well written, even, though the part I had written about Lee, like a script, was a bit stupid. Of course, I was clearly feeling a bit stupid that day, but still, I should re-write it a more evenly, if only for consitency's sake. I'll certainly do that before I give it to anybody to read (although, must I? It occurs to me that the whole point of this exercise is to learn to not need that kind of external confirmation.)

 

C. was right, of course. “Creativity”, such as it is, is a good thing for a brain to do. And since this is a project which will never have any readers, except, possibly, my family or Lee, it is truly “art for art's sake,” which perhaps makes me an artist. It's hardly the first book I've ever written, but none of those were really art. I don't have any of them with me, either, except my prison notes, which I've re-read once or twice and they're quite good, if somewhat pretentious and no longer remotely applicable, so I suppose they're gone forever. I'm a bit sad about that, actually. Now that I think of it.

 

I suppose I shouldn't be, though. I never was really a writer – I just wrote those books because I had to, because one had to publish as well as lecturing and having sex with students. As I recall I used to get right into them when I was writing, and lots of people (including Felix Gaeta) told me they were quite well done, but they weren't anything except information, about the universe, which exists quite happily in spite of me. What I say about it doesn't matter. Like everything else, it doesn't matter. Who I was doesn't matter, because of who I am now. Which is to say, somebody's husband and somebody's father. This book, perhaps, serves as record to that, but the better record will be in them, and in my actions. So I'm searching for a way to put this aside.

 

Perhaps tomorrow. Perhaps I'll take up water-colors. Or, possibly, whittling. That seems like it would be the right thing, given I've already acquired the outdoor furniture and the cliché is only half complete.

 

 

 

 

 

13/9/2

 

Hello Felix,

 

You said your first word today. It was “daddy.”

 

I was going to write about that at length but in all honesty words just aren't enough for the depth to which I am touched by this. Actually, it's entirely possible that they never are.

 

Anyway, for the record, you are nine months old, and you are healthy and beautiful, and having said your first word I think I may reasonably assume that your neurological development is on track.

 

And you have all my love, Felix. Really.

 

Your Father.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

20/7/3

 

I had cheated on her before, of course. Routinely. But not always with women who were her exact doppelganger, and we didn’t have a baby then.

 

I don’t know why it came up again, though it was obvious she didn’t want to discuss it. Probably for the best. She’s dismissed it, but I suspect there are additional levels, and that they are deeper than any sane man cares to fall.

 

Look, Gaius, if you can write a Ph.D. thesis in two weeks, then you can certainly maintain a frakking marriage. Stupid people do that all the time. 


	4. Knowledge is Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reproductive rights, and reproductive abilities.

6/2/4

 

The impetus to start writing again is this: we think C. might be in the club again. We were in the veges this morning and I had got her to hold a trellis up while I was pouring stones around it, to keep it in the ground. She was holding it and I was concentrating and then she dropped it and it fell over. I was a bit of a jerk about that, but at least when I saw she was bent over vomiting, I reined it in. Her hair was getting mixed up in it too so I got down and tried to get it out of her face, for which she gave me a little smile in between heaves. It really did come out of nowhere, just like it did with Felix – when she was first pregnant with him, everything would just be fine, and then all of a sudden it would be “hello, here comes my lunch”, and then it would be absolutely fine again, until the next time. Morning sickness was a fairly inaccurate term in her case. It was more often in the afternoon, for one thing, but it was rarely consistent. It was more to do with things, like smells and appearances, or things like that, than times. This was much more violent and went for longer, so at first I wasn't sure, but she says she hasn't had her woman's bits.

 

So, I wanted to write for the child, if there is one, like I did for Felix. I wonder what he'll think of the whole thing. We might wait a bit before telling him, I think, until I've done the blood test and we know. I have been pulling out, but we haven't been especially diligent, and besides, it was never one hundred percent as a contraceptive. 

 

7/2/4

 

Hadn't thought to ask C. I'd assumed she'd be happy. Funny conversation last night, and I'm not sure that she is.

 

 

 

 

 

 

10/2/4

 

Been busy, so had not written about this, but I had to explain where babies came from to my son. He only just got through toilet training and really he's much too young –  much, much too young – to have to know about sex, but it wasn't as if I could tell him about the stork or any other such nonsense. I am still a scientist, if nothing else. Nothing but the facts. Anything else would be insulting.

 

I think it went right over his head, actually. We live a very isolated life up here and I don't think it had ever occurred to him that he might have a brother or sister.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

14/2/4

 

Running out of cleanser – down to the last box. We use it for everything, and I suppose I thought it would last forever. We're going to have to make soap. Fat, I think, and ash, but I can't remember the other thing.

 

It's not that C. isn't happy. I think it's just more of the same problem that we've had on and off over the last couple of years. She's a wonderful mother, honestly, wonderful. It seems to come completely naturally to her. But there is a discussion which we have had more than once during his first two years of life, about her and the way she feels about herself and my feeling is that as a lapsed femme fatale, she doesn't know what to do with herself in a situation that doesn't require a powerplay.

 

That reads awfully. And it's not right. It's not as if she's some horrible manipulative person. It's more as if, to make her, to make her work on me, the Cylons had to make her an ideal of women, with all of the resplendent cultural baggage of that ideal. She's very happy, with Felix, and about having another child, but she doesn't know how to be just a person any more than I do.

 

It's as if she makes a hole in the myth. Motherhood is supposed to be IT for women, and so it is genuinely IT, for her. But I think sometimes it also isn't. She's the sort of person who needs to throw herself into a great cause. She is a self-sacrificer. I can't be her cause, even if I wish I could, because that ends up with her hating me, and it can't be Felix either, for obvious reasons, most of which involve him turning out an insufferable brat. So what, then? There isn't one, and there never will be. This she knows, but knowing is not the same as living. Physical work helped, and when she's pregnant, she can't do as much physical work.  That's my reading of the situation, anyway.

 

15/2/4

 

Frakking bullseye! I'm getting really good at this!

Gaius: 1

Overriding selfishness:

 

16/2/4

 

She's going a bit religious again, it seems. After everything we've been talking about, I suppose it makes sense. But then there's the question of what we tell Felix. Frankly, I'm all for installing the notion of everything's having more to it that can be seen, but I don't like the idea of stressing god over good behaviour (whatever that is, in the larger scheme of things.) We don't know god's plan, so we can hardly tell Felix to act in accordance with it. I suppose it's up to her, since she's the one who really “believes”, but I have no desire to raise a superstitious idiot.

 

We had a bit of fight about it, actually. It was pretty stupid. I believe in god, for frak's sake! I have SEEN angels, and some of the same angels that she has. God has actually spoken to me! Let's just not forget that what it said was “start a sex cult.”

 

 

 

 

22/2/4

 

Felix misses Lee. I do, too. I had to promise Felix that we'd go in to the village in the near future to get him to eat his breakfast. C. said I should have left it, and he'd have got hungry enough, and I'm sure she's right. I should have done that, actually. I was just tired and not properly woken up.

 

Must find out what the other thing for soap is, too. Might have to wait, though, as we're coming up on harvest. Oh, hooray.

 

 

 

 

 

30/2/4

 

 

Going to have to teach Felix to write. Just thought of that. That could be a project for soon, though he's only two. That's probably too young. It's a big responsibility, after all, language.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

8/3/4

 

Lo, the pure joy that is harvesting! It is absolutely backbreaking, every frakking minute of it. It wasn't bad for the first hour or so, but after that, with the sun beating down, it was hot, sweaty, unpleasant work. The only good part is, I am probably tired enough to justify leaving off stringing it all up to dry this evening. I think I can reasonably put it off till tomorrow morning. And then, I can do some more scythe work, because, of course, I need more joy in my life. My shoulders and my back and my forearms ache, actually too much for writing, but I was whining about it out-loud and it was annoying the wife, who has been at home all day with an extremely upset Felix (Wolfie has gone missing, apparently,) so I thought I'd better put it somewhere else. Here you are, new diary: hard work makes me sore and I almost wish I hadn't knocked up my wife so she could do some (or all) of it for me. She says she will anyway, but not on my watch she won't. She's not sick all the time, but I don't like it, the idea of her doing the harvest. We had a bit of a fight, actually, and maybe I shouldn't have been such a caveman, but it's precious, whoever it is and so is she. And one of us has to watch Felix, because he can't come out in the field when I'm swinging a scythe around. I could easily hit him.

 

The frakking cornmeal had better be worth it, is all I can say. If not, “god” will be hearing from me.

 

NB: Don't forget to look for Wolfie.

 

9/3/4

 

Still can't find frakking Wolfie. Felix a bit beside himself. Don't know where he could have left it. The house isn't very big. If he's left him outside, he might be gone forever. Something would have carried  him off.

 

10/3/4

 

Shoulders hurt so much I couldn't lift my arms up during sex. It was alright, though, because I'd forgotten that her tits get sore when she's pregnant. She's pretty good with her hands anyway, so nothing to whine about. 

 

 

11/3/4

 

Found Wolfie in the smokehouse. Lord knows how he got there. He must have walked there himself. Felix claimed to know nothing about it, and I have no choice but to believe him.

 

It's sweet that Felix loves that ratty old fur so much. I suppose I did kill it, just for him, and it has been his since he was born. It's a bit gross that he sucks on it, but I suppose if it was going to make him sick it would have done so by now. Also, as a former smoker, I am in no position to throw stones about oral fixation.

 

Haven't done a kill like that in a while, actually.  We got most of our furs in the first year, when we all helped, but Wolfie I got on my own, back when he was a real, live wolf.  It was all terribly macho, really. I'm rather proud of that.

 

 

 

15/3/4

 

Went for a long walk with Felix this morning. Stringing up the corn is doing my head in, even if C. is doing most of it. I need a break, especially before the rain comes in. I want to beat it this year instead of having to do all the preserving in one big dash. This, then, is now officially my goal.

 

Felix asked a lot of questions about the child. It's really got him thinking. I forget, all the time, how far from normal the way we live is. We just don't have things like families – the only people he knows besides us are Lee and company, and he'd been too young to understand when Kara was born. He doesn't know about siblings or cousins or grandparents. He might have done, if there'd never been a war. I think that, all the time. He might have known a lot of people. A lot of things might have happened if there hadn't been a war.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

18/3/4

 

Felix hasn't stopped talking about the family thing – every minute he has another question. It was quite nice for the first couple of days, because he'd come out in the veges where I was working and absently weed, although one has to watch him, because he'll get a plant from time to time. Gradually, though, I think he's really getting the hang of it.

 

How's that for not writing about it, Gaius?  Felix wants a new story at bedtime, too. I might have to write one. He is pretty bored of everything I've been recycling, which is mostly the stories I myself remember from my mother. It has occurred to me to dust off some of the war stories, but he's too young, and besides, I come off poorly. Because, of course, I behaved poorly. If he ever asks “what did you do in the war, Daddy?”, as the propaganda posters used to say, I fear the answer will be “make it considerably worse.”

 

That's what happened today. I think I had actually forgotten  that I ~~was~~ am a war criminal. I'm not allowed to forget, as much as I want to. Today I remembered. Because he asked, of course he asked, if I had any brothers or sisters, did he have any cousins. Did my brother have any children? And I don't know. I have no idea. He could have had a whole brood, and I wouldn't have known, because once I left Aerlon, we never spoke again. Maybe once, but, of course, about me.

 

I started to cry a bit, then. Not sobbing or anything, just crying, because it was so startling, like a slap in the face. I tried to hide it but Felix gave me a hug. He's such a sweet child. Don't cry, daddy, he said. It's not that bad, which is what I say to him when he falls over, as he does, all the time. “Don't cry, Felix. It's not that bad. See?” It usually works. 

 

But not for me. Because, unfortunately, it is exactly that bad. I'm not allowed to forget that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

21/3/4

 

I forget she was there with me. I always forget. She was up tonight though, and I think on purpose, because she yawned a lot.  Don't make it go away, and don't make it come back, she said. It happened, and it always will have happened. But it is not happening now. She held my hand, the way she does sometimes.

 

She can do algorithms too, though she seldom has occasion to any more. She can shoot, and is much stronger than me. And she can make children, and she knows how to cook much better than I do and she knows what to say to keep me from going insane. How she can do all these things I will never know. Her complexity remains as much mystery as it ever did. She is also very beautiful. In fact, she is glowing. I am very lucky, especially considering what I am.

 

I envy her faith, though, and I always did.  I can't wish my brother back to life, but I wish I could. I really frakked that up, even before the war. That was a bad mistake, and it's one I can't ever take back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

6/4/4

 

It does get better. If you make it from guilt into grief it gets better, though in some ways that's harder, because then the immovability of that loss is eternal. But at least it feels right – to grieve in a way that isn't about me. Felix is very excited now about his new sibling and so am I. I am so happy. I'm sad about all these other things, but then, I'm so happy. Every day, when we wake up, no matter how ratty we are, C. and I share that. Sometimes we speculate about the future, but often she'll just put my hand on her belly and we'll lie there for a minute or so. I don't think we ever thought we would be this lucky.

 

Off to the village in a couple of days, soon as everything's in order. Don't like leaving C. but we really have to go, and she can hardly ride down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

8/4/4

 

C. miscarried early this morning. She started cramping out by the washing line, and she says that at first she didn't worry because she'd had cramps here and there when she was pregnant with Felix. But then they got much worse, and then she started to bleed, which is when she called out. The bleeding has slowed now, but not totally stopped. She is devastated. Not sure if we need to tell Felix anything today, since he seemed blissfully unaware of the morning drama, but we'll have to tell him something eventually. Already he's worried about his mum. 

 

It's an inaccurate word, miscarriage. I understand the meaning, and the function, but it's inaccurate. What happened is that our child died.

 

9/4/4

 

Spoke to Felix. He didn't really understand. Babies are still a bit technical for him at this stage of his life. Still, he seemed aware that it was a sad thing that had happened.

 

C. still in bed. Bleeding much reduced, and no fever, but she's pretty blue.

 

10/4/4

 

C. came out of bed this morning. Bleeding is steadily heavier since she passed the bulk of the afterbirth, though I've since given her an exam and I don't think there's any infection or anything being left behind. But I want to keep a good eye on her. For now I have her on the couch with a couple of furs underneath her, and a few over. My world, I now realize, is considerably less safe without Dr. Cottle in it. For that recognition, if for no other reason, I hope to see him on the other side, if indeed it exists.

 

 

 

11/4/4

 

What I can't stop thinking about is who the child would have been. For nine months, Felix existed in potential, and then he was born, and then those nine months become, in my mind, a part of who he is. He couldn't have been anyone else. From the first cellular division, he was Felix. At less than four months, the potential that the child even possessed the necessary neurological equipment for conscious thought is comparatively slight, but emotionally, for me, they were already my child. I wish I'd kept the foetus so that we could have buried it, or something like that. At the time I didn't want C. to see it, so I wrapped it up and then I burnt it, along with the sheet. I wish I hadn't done that. I don't think it was right. I should have buried it.

 

It was shocking seeing that come out of her. They don't look like babies. Sort of like a fish. But with little human parts – feet, for example. Tiny little feet. Human feet. And hands. It was hard not to react, but I didn't want her to see it. It might have broken her heart.

 

12/4/4

 

Felix has been playing up the past couple of days. It's not really terrible but it's certainly less than helpful under the circumstances. This morning, for example, he knocked over his milk, demonstrably on purpose, and then just folded his arms and scowled. He's supposed to pick it up if he knocks something over, and when he didn't, I asked him to, and he refused to speak, and started kicking his legs against his chair. At first I ignored it and told him to pick up his cup again, and even said I would help him with it but he only kicked louder. The noise was obviously bothering C., mostly because it was extremely frakking annoying, and I didn't know what to do except say exactly that, though I suspect that might have been the wrong thing. He did what he was told but he's been in a funk since. And there've been a few things like that.

 

It occurs to me now that C. doesn't usually like my using the F word with Felix but she didn't seem to notice. It's just a word, of course, but usually she would have said something.

 

13/4/4

 

C. had one hand on the blanket, in her panties last night and then she stopped, suddenly, and began to cry. I pulled her into bed and held her tightly and she just grabbed me and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. She thinks it's her fault. She thinks it happened because of those feelings she had, when we first found out. But it's just nature. It just works that way sometimes, and usually it means that the child wasn't ready to live, that something hadn't combined properly, or wasn't growing properly. I did tell her that, but I don't know that it helped.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

16/4/4

 

My heart is still pounding and he is tucked up in bed, safe and warm and with barely a scratch on him. He was gone for hours. Anything could have happened. I have never in my life been forced to mediate such anger and such pure relief. Holy frakking god. Anything could have happened. I'm astronomically lucky to have found him.

 

17/4/4

 

This is the first time Felix has been in serious trouble and I handled it horribly. I was just so angry at him. I had all sorts of plans about a reasonable discussion and keeping a nice level head but it didn't work out that way at all. He just doesn't realise that ~~he might have~~   that something might have happened to him.

 

C. is talking to him now but the damage is already done.

 

18/4/4

 

 

The thing is, he is so little, and he really didn't understand that running off was dangerous. And he was asleep when I found him. In his mind it was just total reaction. He just had a feeling, because he had been naughty and I had told him off, and he had acted on it and it was as simple as that. There wasn't anything in his mind about where that action would, or could, end up. I'm not really angry at him. I wasn't, really. I was just terrified that something bad would happen and anger is where it came out. I tried to explain this but I think it went well over his head. So I just said I was sorry.  I shouldn't have told him off in the first place. He hadn't even done anything really naughty. He was just being annoying, like a child, and I snapped.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

20/4/4

 

And gradually, he catches on. Yes, that old double doctorate, youngest professor in Caprica U history, head-hunted by the defence department, first port of call in an espionage intellect is still barely functional. While the history remains unchanged, I feel remarkably stupid. Pretty remarkably stupid, actually. It's like things continuously happen in front of me but I can't interpret them or figure out what they are. We've been so focused on the miscarriage, and Felix is feeling neglected. Written down like that, it's spectacularly obvious, but I didn't figure it out until I was out in the veges this afternoon with him and he asked if I still loved him any more.

 

I don't kiss him enough. Not nearly enough. It's worth my remembering, worth my writing it down, worth my attempting to burn it into my brain: MY MOODS EFFECT FELIX! Despite the fact that our feelings had absolutely nothing to do with him, the fact that we (actually, I should say I. C. is exempt from this criticism, considering, and I think it is fair to say that managing all this is pretty squarely my job) have been withdrawn and irritable makes him think he is doing something wrong, and that's not alright. He's so little, still. Really, his world is all about him right now. 

 

21/4/4

 

Milking.

Corn.

Plums.

Worms.

Hug and kiss your son and tell him in no uncertain terms that he is important to you and that you love him.

 

The last one, you have to do every day, for the rest of your life. 

 

Talked it over with C. last night, and she agrees. She blames herself a bit, but I don't think she should. I'm the one that doesn't know how to be a frakking parent.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

22/4/4

 

Last night in bed I told her about the foetus. I'd just been thinking and thinking about it and it wouldn't go away. She cried a little bit when I told her, and put her hand in mine and squeezed it very tight. She stroked my hair and put her arms around me and I cried too. I didn't think I would. I wish we could have buried it.

 

Her body isn't ready, but when it is we're having another. It won't be the same person, though. That person is gone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

26/4/4

 

Don't think the cleanser situation is really desperate. I want to see Lee so badly, but I can't leave. I just can't. Something would happen. It is inevitable that something would happen. The sky would fall or one of the mountains would suddenly turn out to be a volcano. I am owed so much worse.

 

C. much, much better, physically. To the best of my knowledge, to the best of my examination,  I can see nothing medically wrong with her.  I didn't know what to think when she started spotting again, and  twice actually bleeding in earnest but it's not anything, apparently. It comes and then it goes and her bloodwork is fine, and all of her bits are fine and phsyically she is fine and there is nothing wrong with her. There is no actual medical thing I can do for her. Which means I can do nothing, because that is where my usefulness ends.

 

Because I don't know about her, emotionally. I think she will be alright, because she's strong, but now, still, there's just the feeling of something missing, even when she does talk. She's terrible for that, the way it just all gets pulled in, and when she does express it, it's in this language of moral extreme, of punishment or something and I can't correct her on that, the way she does with me. She's too strong, and too faithful and I can't stand up to her. She's been working like a demon too, and I don't know whether to let her do it or stop her, so I've mostly been with Felix and on house duties. Today, I taught him how to pick the tomatoes without squashing them and he was very patient.

 

The fresh hell is that a little of her milk came in. That pre-milk bit. As if some of her body doesn't know what has happened.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

28/4/4

 

Felix, having had his head turned by the science of genealogy, has not let up on the questions. They have simply become more diverse.

 

In the last week, I have heard myself saying things like, “well, Felix, because of fluid dynamics”, or “well, Felix, because of the way light refracts when it encounters water,” and much else besides. It is testing the very limits of my knowledge, because I have to think, really think, about why things are these ways and how one can tell, and how to tell this to such a little person. I have to explain so many things I am used to taking for granted, and I realise it's only then that I come to really understand them. I dimly recall this sensation from teaching, but back then I was cocky and frequently drunk and it was much more about impressing everyone I could, especially because I was so much younger than most of the other Professors. And, then, of course, I impressed my way into the defence department, and the rest is catastrophe.

 

But I have no need to impress Felix – he is already too impressed by science to notice me, even if he doesn't understand half of what's going on. He really is too little to be taking it all in. But his interest is making me interested. Once or twice we have come up against questions I can't answer and there aren't any books for me to look in. I think we're going to have to do some proper science over the next few years. It makes me think of the first scientists – those who measured the planets, or did the first mathematics. I don't think he knows what he is to me, Felix, how much he is. But perhaps that's right, actually. Perhaps he shouldn't.

 

Still anxious about C. but spending this time with my son is rather special. I still remember when he was born. I remember how small he was. And I remember her face. It was like she didn't even know she could be that happy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3/5/4

 

She's a bit better, I think. Sleeping better, anyway, so the work, maybe, is the right thing. I think the mother vein runs pretty deep, and I don't think I'll ever really understand. She told me she'd once broken a child's neck, by accident, when she first arrived on Caprica. She just didn't know that new-borns can't support their own heads, and she was interested and so she held it up. It was a careless accident. Oh, my darling, it was only a careless accident, and it happened only because you didn't know.  But we both know why it can't be forgotten.

 

 

4/5/4

 

LYE!

 

Fat, and the ash is made into lye! I knew it was in there somewhere.

 

 

5/5/4

 

Conversation: C. said I had been helpful. I am much too pleased about that. It's all confusing and I don't know how to do the right thing, and then there's a little bit of praise and everything is ideal. I'm like a dog, or a child. Can I really be that simple? As if I'm one half genius and one half moron. Pat me on the head and I'll roll over.

 

Still, it's good I've been helpful. I do love her, after all. And I like having the evening with her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

15/5/4

 

Doing it deliberately is different from doing it by accident. There's an act of will involved, I think, like there was with Felix. That was very conscious, our making him. I remember it, still.

 

 

 

 

16/5/4

 

Saw the most amazing thing today. I was bringing in some water and it was dusk and a whole treefull of birds took off. They were black against an orange sky and they filled it up, like a great plume. Other things, at least, are alive.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

19/5/4

 

I think it might have to be this way. I remember some of this, from years ago, that love was the missing ingredient in producing biological offspring between Cylons and humans, that there had to be love. ~~Which implies that we didn't love each other when our~~

that isn't right. That's not right. It's just nature.

 

God help me, I'm loving as hard as I can.

 

 

 

 

24/5/4

 

This, perhaps, is the strangest feeling I have ever had: a feeling of not being good at sex. I might have been indiscriminate in the application of my skills in the past, but I've never been bad at it before. She hasn't come once this week. It's all she can think about and it's all I can think about, and it was sexy at first, because all the emotions that were mixed up in it made it tender and nice but it has since got a bit functional.  It makes me not want to do it at all. I don't know how to tell her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

27/5/4

 

Started milling, by hand, with stone, on stone. It's quite meditative, actually. When it's not frakking boring.

 

Felix wants to help but he's a bit little and unfortunately he just ends up making a mess, so I have given him a little pile of dried corn to husk. He can't, really, but I suppose it will allow him to think he is doing something. He seems to find it absorbing enough, which is good news for me because he sits with me when he does it and having little chats with him is helping to mediate some of the extreme boredom brought on by doing such a mind-numbingly repetitive task (and, also, it means that he is occupied enough to allow C. do some work too.) He's quite bright for his age, I think. I have no previous experience with children and Cottle is no longer around to tell me, but he can already make good, proper sentences, even if his vocabulary is pretty small (though getting bigger quickly.) I think he thinks quite hard about things, too. He's very blond, like his mother. He has such little hands.

 

 

28/5/4

I confessed. At first she was furious. But then, actually, she really agreed. Not because it isn't working or hasn't worked. It's only been a month so it's too soon to tell, and it might even be too soon after. But we've stopped trying. The reasons aren't right and it's frakking up our frakking. No more children. Not for a little while.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

6/6/4

 

The cornmeal is, in fact, worth the effort. There's still a lot of milling to be done, though it is going faster now that both C. and I are doing it, especially since her patience makes mine look like attention deficit disorder, but we had our first cornbread last night and the opportunity to eat something different was a treat beyond expectation. The only thing missing is butter, because, while fat is nice enough, it really isn't the same. I know how to churn but I'm not sure I know how to make one. Still, science. Can't be that hard.

 

We'd need a couple more deer, of course. Or, a goat or two. I've seen one, or something that looked like one, so I know they're out there, just in the higher ground, so stalking them is much more effort. But we could have a goat. We could have cheese!

 

 

7/6/4

 

Love her, love her, love her. I do and will and whatever else, whatever it takes to be with her. We actually woke up holding hands, which sounds like a line out of a women's stroke-book, but it really did happen, and it has filled me with a solemn amazement, as if my whole body has entered a religious hush. Possibly because the first time I ever held her hand we had already known each other for more than six years and been together and come apart two full times, and we had done every other thing we could think of.  Then, more than five years ago now, I held out my hand for the first time. I wasn't even remotely sure that she would hold it back, but I had nothing left to loose. 

 

It's not as if things don't happen in the night either– once or twice in the past we've woken up frakking (I feel like such a pervert about it. But then, she's claimed responsibility a couple of times, and I can't say I've ever felt like complaining, so I suppose it must be alright.) But I'm not writing about sex, and I'm not even thinking about it, actually. Or, at least, not terribly much. Occasional chastity is alright, because sex is only one part of the way I love her.  Sometimes, we talk, and I don't think we really talk, but last night was different. I feel a lot better. I feel like we're in the same place. I feel like we're closer, or something. Also, she has stopped hard-peddling the “god's plan” crap, so that's good news for me. 

 

Felix wanted to come tomorrow, when I go goat stalking again and I had to say no. He was less than thrilled. She’s had to put him to bed because he's not speaking to me. Thank you, darling. I love you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

10/6/4

 

Frakking goat! I've torn up almost every square inch of my body getting it, but it's ours. It whined all the way home and I kept falling down and it was just ridiculous. But, it's ours now. Ugly little bastard – or bitch, I should say, seeing as it's a girl. They are really ugly, goats. And they look nearly exactly the same here, only with longer horns. Maybe uglier.

 

11/6/4

 

Felix has called the goat “Goaty.” I had to laugh. Felix loves her, but I suspect this love is unreciprocated by Goaty, whose temperament seems to be firmly of the “bitch” variety. She's given Felix a couple of butts, and still he gamely tries on, the little darling. I had to teach him the word “fuzzy”, which I never thought we would need.

 

It occurs to me that it might be time to teach him to milk, but surely he's too young.

 

12/6/4

 

 Wonderful, clever, beautiful, sexy person. I was out feeding the horses in their little shelter and she came out to ask me if I wanted lunch and we had a frak. It was a one thing led to another situation – she gave me a kiss on the head and I gave her one on the cheek and then it just happened. We haven't once since we stopped trying and I think there was a lot of pent up energy, because it was hard and furious and really, really exquisitely hot. She's so sexy. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

10/6/4

 

Felix made rather a good point today. I doubt he meant to. He was just babbling away in the way that he does and he said (and, actually, I will transcribe it word for word, because it was excellent.)

“If god wants me to be good I must be already doing it.”

 

C. wasn't that impressed, and I'll admit, I, too recall the persuasive danger of fatalism. Both of us have come to the realisation that free will, and acting upon it, is absolutely necessary, if only for mental health reasons. However, I am very impressed by the level of his reasoning. He's only two! That's my son! He provoked a long, spirited discussion at the breakfast table. He's obviously extremely bright.

 

11/6/4

 

I suppose it is crunch time, with the god stuff. He hasn't shut up about it, and we're past the point of being able to fob him off with “no need to worry, Felix.” It's because he's starting to remember things he's told now.

 

Personally, I suspect that we can't do better than the truth. It is complicated, of course, but it has the virtue of being what actually happens. I don't want to tell him any fairy stories. C. says, we'll both tell him whatever he wants to know. We're really Parents now! Occasionally, it occurs to me to be daunted by that responsibility, but I'm too busy and it always happens without warning.

 

 

 

 

 

 

18/6/4

 

Time for a rotate, I think. Nothing for it.

 

I wonder if it's sensible that we keep diversifying in this way? When we first built the farm, we just had the horses and the vege patch and a couple of fruit trees and that was it. Then we'd hunt a bit of meat, and now we have two other animals, and corn, and all this other fruit. We used to make excursions to the creek, which isn't even that far away, but then we sank the well. We preserve, we make lamps, we make clothes, we make soap (as soon as I can make some frakking lye which doesn't get rained in and ruined.) We make things. It's industry. We ran out of matches years ago, but we're both used to flint. Maybe we should have forced ourselves to stay simple. Maybe we, inevitably, ride toward a fall.

 

19/6/4

 

Caught up rotating, forgotten about village. I could, maybe, go down soon. We could all go. We could go solely for social reasons. That's not that strange. Lee used to. He used to just come, for no other reason than to see us. We were down when Kara was born, but that was a special occasion. She was a lovely baby and they were happy.  I miss the telephone. I'm going to put that on the list:

 

THINGS I REALLY, REALLY MISS by Dr. Gaius Baltar

 

1) Cigarettes: my real true and eternal love. If I ever find out that someone is growing tobacco, I will gleefully and immediately disregard the adage “former” and become a current smoker again, and with gusto. Sometimes I think about the one Cottle gave me after Felix was born and I did not appreciate it as much as it deserved. I know they cause cancer and make me sterile but I don't give a flying frak.

 

2) Coffee: oh, god, I miss coffee. That has NEVER got better. I miss it EVERY MORNING.

 

3) Nightclubs: not for the dancing. Just for the perving. Though, the dancing is fun if one is drunk enough. And one could always get laid in the bathroom (or afterwards, in the cab.)

 

4) Archived digital pornography: because while my own onboard simulator is adept enough, I know there are things I can't think of. Some of the things I'm thinking of now, in fact.

 

5) and, of course, the telephone. Obviously.

 

Oh yes, and new shoes. I used to have so many. It was a bit of a “thing”, really. And I miss my pinstriped suit. I have nowhere to wear it, but it was an excellent suit. I'd probably be too old to pull it off now. It was a young man's suit. It was, after all, purple. And fabulous.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

26/6/4

 

C. says, she misses couture, wait service and riding in cars. She's an upper crust Cylon, of course. She says she misses tampons, which probably goes without saying. And she misses sports. Somehow, that part was real. I suppose the angels really did know about us.

 

I remember dancing with her. She was good at it. Of course she was. She has a body like a gymnast.

 

 

 

 

 

2/7/4

 

C.'s pregnant again. I did her bloods this evening and it's one hundred percent. She said she'd skipped, though she hadn't had any other symptoms, and I thought she might still be a bit off her cycle, but we checked anyway. It must have only just happened. I hope we're not counting our chickens. I probably should have left off checking.

 

 

 

 

 

8/7/4

 

C. is mad at me because I won't let her do any work. It's a fair point - she says working helps her not think about what could go wrong and I'm just worried, and she is right. But I am worried because it's worrying. And I would love to not worry but it is, unfortunately and immovably, actually worrying. 

 

I've had to start doing the fat again because it makes her vomit (and, frankly, I am not surprised, because it is really gross) but it is a very small price to pay.

 

9/7/4

 

I want to write about this, but I'm actually too scared. I'm scared that whatever I write down will become irreparably true, as if god, or fate, or the universe can read my thoughts. I have too much power over the universe. Bad things always seem to happen when I'm not even paying attention. Or when I'm paying attention to something else.

 

10/7/4

 

You are not allowed to go crazy. I can actually, physically feel it, so don't even bother to lie to yourself. I can feel that same severing that you'll put to work for you when you can't adjust to something that is happening. Well, you're not allowed, alright? This is too important for you to pull that kind of pathetic nonsense. So adjust!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

15/7/4

 

Had one of those little heart-attack nervous things. Out in the fruit trees. Took me by surprise. Didn't tell C. I know what it is, so I'm not really worried.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

19/7/4

 

Figured something out. If I, when it starts to happen, stay very conscious of the physical world around me, it's much less awful. Had to fess up. We were deciding whether and when to talk to Felix and it started to happen and so she knew. I was a bit ashamed, but she's not mad. Though I suspect she would have been, had I left it much longer, because she said:

 

“Gaius, I don't mind anything you do. I do mind being unable to compensate for unexpected variables.” And they say romance is dead! I am touched.

 

But no, honestly, she said it in a nice way. I think I'm used to everything being dramatic and that being how I know it's meaningful, but sometimes I think these little bits of caring, tucked in between everything else practical, are much more so. She just wants to know, and if she knows, she doesn't mind.

 

 

20/7/4

 

Not sure what to do about C. She is really sick today! I wish I had something to give her that might help a bit, because everything under the sun is setting her off, and she's miserable. It's not like either other time – more a sort of constant nausea. I don't know enough about the plants we have around and there's certainly nothing left over in the kit that would work. She can't even go in the kitchen. The only thought I have is to ride down and ask Lee and company.  Though they're probably as busy as we are.

 

I suppose we'll see, if it stays like this. Because I'd really rather not leave her, or move her, or

 

breathe, idiot. Deep breaths, please.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

27/7/4

 

C. still feels awful, and she wants me to go down. She said she'd want me to anyway. I feel a bit useless about that, frankly. But she said it would be good for me. Also, she might be a bit sick of my over worrying. It probably isn't helping. No need to add the “probably”, lad. It isn't helping.

 

28/7/4

 

Kara is absolutely gorgeous. She's about eighteen months now, and she has the best of both Lee and her mother. Really, a lovely child, and very good-natured. She and Felix got on like a house on fire, about which I am very pleased, because Felix is Lee's biggest fan, and it was nice to talk to him without Felix crawling all over him and vying for his attention. I wish we could have stayed longer, but I didn't like leaving C., even if she did swear on her immortal soul to stay as horizontal as possible in our absence.

 

I can only write about Lee's partner in relation to him or Kara, unless, of course, I am to resort to designative naming. She was well, anyway. They both were. Our visit was painfully brief but it's good even to touch base from time to time, just to know they're alive. I miss Lee's and my “man time” quite a bit, really, because we didn't really talk. I didn't know how to start talking about everything, so it was all a bit surface, and I think for him too. We did chat briefly about our moving down to the village – not now, obviously, but at some time in the future. I, personally, have absolutely no desire to do this and neither does C., but it crosses my mind that it might be better for the kids (plural!) to be around other kids. Also, Lee tells me that the new doctor they have, Cottle's understudy, is pretty well trained, but that they want me to run her through some of the sciencey stuff – bloods and viruses, basically. This is hardly an impetus to move, since I haven't taught in forever, but I can hardly refuse to help, so we'll have to prepare for a visitor in a few weeks.

 

The good news is that they had something for C. She's smoking it now and it seems to be helping, though they warned me it might make her a bit spacey.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

30/7/4

 

Felix is perfectly alright. It is absolutely natural that he would pick up something in the village and it will be good for his immune system, because we really do lead a very sheltered existence up here. He will be fine. It isn't even terribly virulent. It's just a little bug. I was sick almost constantly the first year we were here.

 

I know he will be fine because God wouldn't take my son. Not after everything that's happened. It just wouldn't do that and he will be fine. He will be fine. 

 

1/8/4

 

Felix seems a bit better today, though I don't think his fever has quite peaked. I think it's taking a lot out of him, whatever it is (seems like a flu, really. Same symptoms and it's certainly the same kind of RNA virus. While both Felix’s t and b cell counts appear as they should be, perfectly responsive, and apparently winning, seeing those little bastards ripping into his cytoplasm and replicating themselves makes me nauseous) because, for the first day he cried a lot that his head hurt and today he is either very quiet or sleeping. This must be his father in him – C. never gets sick from these things, only from babies. The very few (actually, just two) viruses that I have seen effect Cylon physiology had very marked differences. Still, I'd rather handle it myself in case it does effect the child.

 

At any rate, I am responding the way I would to a flu: fluids and rest. He's a bit sick to eat anything.

 

2/8/4

 

It's such a horrible feeling, holding my hand on his head and feeling how hot he is. I've been sleeping in here with him, and his sleep has been fitful. I wish I had something to give him for the pain. Early in the morning he woke up and said that his legs hurt – I remember that from the flu, that full body ache – and there was nothing I could do for him except for stroke his head and tell him it would all be over before long. He did go back to sleep and he has since only woken up very briefly to accept a drink of water. It occurs to me that I ought to put him in a diaper but he hasn't been at all (worrying? Inevitably he's just burning up every bit of liquid, but still not good.) Suppose I'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

 

2/8/4

 

Felix's fever peaked in the night, and has since reduced considerably. He is still pretty sick, but such a quick fever bodes well for his recovery. He seemed clearer when he woke up today, if utterly wiped out. I'd like to try him on a bit of thin soup this evening.

 

C. said she'd make it, but she's acting a bit funny. She's not at all nauseous, so the stuff the Adamas sent her must be working, but I caught her in the kitchen just staring at the stove. Really, just staring, the way someone does when they've forgotten what they were going to do, but for ages. And then there was the way she giggled afterwards. If I didn't know better, I would have thought she was stoned. Probably best if she dials back on it a bit – whatever it is, if it's anything like dope it's unlikely to be terribly good for the child.

 

3/8/4

 

Up with Felix until the wee hours tonight (or this morning?) He's much better already, but it was hard for him to sleep, even if he is very tired. I did a few stories but mostly he just wanted me to be there.

 

Felix brings me so much joy and so much fear and so much anger and so much happiness and so much worry. People used to say to me that having children was the best thing they ever did, and I think, for me, that is perhaps forgone. But that's not the point. The point is that it's the MOST I've ever done. I've never been so wholly emotionally occupied. And I love him more than life itself. That reads as horribly trite but it is also true.

 

Extremely keen to hop into bed with my lovely wife, whom I have sorely missed, but I'd better have a bath first.

 

4/8/4

 

I was always an amphetamines man, because, of course, I wasn't enough of an asshole on my own. I don't miss them, actually, because they were horrible, as much as they helped me appear to function. I used to get awful headaches from them, all the time. But I hadn't smoked The Chronic since college, which is basically what this is. It seems to be helping C. a lot, though it's making her act like a complete goof. It is adorable, actually, seeing her considerable poise and grace become subject to giggly buffoonery. Though I probably shouldn't have had any. It is a bit irresponsible, even if Felix is asleep. 

 

It is fun, though. Wouldn't mind a frak.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

6/8/4

 

The funny thing is, I was so worried about Felix, I'd stopped worrying about the new child a bit. And, now that Felix is on the mend, some of that worry has just been worked out. I don't know how. Still, there it is. I feel less like a person standing underneath an impending disaster – more slightly to the side of it, sort of.

 

That's good, actually, because such worry as I have about C. is legitimate. She seems fine, but she often does. She's good at getting on with it an it's not always in her favour. So it's good if I'm not a basket case having little baskety meltdowns all over the show. She is feeding Felix, who is wrapped up in her lap. He's had a little bit of warm cornmeal and has got a bit of colour back. Nothing like a mum, really.

 

I hope I am not going to get whatever it was that Felix had. There's that unpleasant yet familiar prelude-to-sickness feeling at the back of my throat, but no other symptoms yet. Let's hope it stays that way.

 

 

 

 

 

13/8/4

 

This is why I have a secret diary: because, even if it makes me pathetic and selfish and says more about my problems around my mother than anything else, I love it when C. takes care of me. I do. I feel sick and rotten and she is so nice, and it's not just the cups of tea, it's the way she sits with me when I drink it, the way she puts one arm around me and strokes my hair back with the other hand, everything gentle. She puts a little kiss right there and it's as if nothing bad can ever happen.

 

I feel much better today but writing makes my head sore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

15/8/4

 

Rachel the Intern arrived today so I had to get out of bed. As we speak she and Felix are sitting on the floor, apparently drawing, and C. is making dinner. I still feel like warmed-over porridge so the timing is pretty poor, especially since I've been out for a week and there must be a lot of work on the

 

no, apparently C. has been doing some of it. ~~Despite the fact that I~~

Rachel seems nice enough, if a little aggressive (though to be fair, that could be because my social faculty is at less than half speed), and I don't think it will be hard to teach her. As much as I was able to listen to her without drifting off, it seems like Cottle has trained her reasonably well on bloods and I shouldn't have to fill in very much. She's not bad looking, either, frankly. Nice legs, if short. The Lord giveth (and et cetera.)

 

Dinner smells nice. It's all very domestic, really. My wife has a nice ass. I might still be a bit sick for sex but I wouldn't mind a chance later, if she's up for it.

 

 

16/8/4

 

  * Drawing. Transcription via. image usually successful, because it teaches them to LOOK. Rachel is diligent in every other way but I don't think she actually looks that hard. Work her from 10x down to 100x.
  * Most of the problem is math and some of the problem is memory. She ought to know groups, but more to the point, she ought to be able to work out or designate a group, based on frequencies of certain characteristics. If she can't keep that sort of thing in her head, she'll need to keep notebooks.
  * What I think it is, is that it doesn't really interest her. She's bright enough, obviously, so it's just a matter of interest. They're not the building blocks of the universe to her, I suppose. If I can make it matter, it'll all go a lot quicker.
  * Really nice legs. Really. She won't defer to me, either, which is actually frakking sexy. Like my wife. She has red hair and a sweet, pointy little nose and very little feet. And, she's actually shorter than me! She must be about 5'5”, maybe 5'4”, like a little porcelain doll.



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

18/8/4

 

Rachel won't perform abortions! She believes they are immoral. This is appalling. They can't have a doctor who won't perform abortions.

 

I'm hardly an abortion advocate. I was fairly vocal about it once upon a time, at the stage of my life that pregnancy existed solely as an impediment to my good time, but this isn't the issue. The issue is illuminated by dialectical analysis, in that unless women are granted full agency over their reproductive potential they exist as less than full economic citizens. That is basic science. It results in societal bifurcation and positions women as a servant class. Rachel is an idiot. I think I might actually be repulsed by her – and not in a “I'll end up loving you” kind of way. I'm not disguising any secret sexual feelings, no matter how nice her legs are. She is an actual idiot.

 

Honestly. What an argument. She talked about my children, and, would you abort them? Which was pretty awful, in light of recent events, not to mention completely rude. But of course she doesn't know about any of that, and of course not, because C. and I want them, and we have decided to be parents. That's not an argument, it's just nonsensical religious guilt, and that's not the issue. She said she would feel differently about rape, though, so I suppose it's better than nothing. Idiot. Honestly.

 

19/8/4

 

C. agrees with Rachel! I had no idea I was sharing a bed with a pro-lifer. It’s like I’m back on Aerlon! She said there isn't any economics so dialectics don't apply. But exchange of labour is economics! C. is not an idiot (there are times, in fact, that I suspect she is smarter than me, though I'll be keeping that thought in this book where she can't see it) but I can't believe she would be so stupid about this one issue. Not only that, but she told me it was presumptuous and patronising for me to discuss women's bodies on economic terms.

 

I suppose it's a religion thing. It has to be, really. Funny, that we could physically see the same god, and she retains all that religious nonsense from her previous life. Life is sacred, of course, and on that point I agree. But I'm not suggesting that women should be forced to have abortions, just that they should be allowed to choose them without moral judgement from their doctor. Existing at the periphery of a Neolithic society is no excuse to reproduce Stone Age values. Appalling. They both ganged up on me this evening and C. told me to leave Rachel alone. Then Rachel said something very unsettling. Something along the lines of “I'm surprised to find out that you really believe that,” or something like that. Not in a judgemental “I thought you were better than that” way. It was different. But she wouldn't be drawn.

 

20/8/4

 

Frak. Frak. It all makes sense now. Rachel remembers me from New Caprica. I had actually forgotten that pro-choice had been part of my platform. The whole settlement issue sort of obscured that. And then the whole Cylon occupation sort of obscured everything I'd said before the election. But I think she was an actual Roslin voter – as in, not someone just voting for the status quo. An actual religious voter who believed in the scrolls and the word of the gods and everything.

 

Frak. What is she doing here? Also, why would Cottle pick her for an intern? He was an ethical man.  I know his best girl, whose name I have now forgotten, had gone off, because she was fully trained, and it wasn't sensible to have them both in the one place. Possibly Rachel was the only one who volunteered to fill the gap. 

 

But it doesn't matter. I thought she was too young. But she's not. She's not too young to have lost a brother on New Caprica. She's not too young to be another casualty of the Baltar Administration.

 

Felix Gaeta should have shot me. He was going to, and I talked my way out of it. As usual.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Can't forget. I didn't even do anything. I did nothing. They had a gun to my head and I signed, and it was the only time I said no. Every other time, I said yes. Occupy our people. I surrender. Don't blow us up and I have no idea how to fight you. Just keep me in liquor and interns and sweet, speedy pills. That's all I'll ever ask. That's what I remember. And I wouldn't have anyway. I was busy making love, not war. Thinking of myself. Before they even got there. Just keep me in liquor and interns and guilt and Gina had already died and so it was all shot to hell anyway. Felix Gaeta had started to hate me and I could hear it in his voice and I deserved it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Years ago, when Felix was born, when I was slipping off the deep end, I saw a pool of black water and now I know where that image came from. When they were trying to find out what I knew they gave me a drug and it was like being in a blackened sea. There was light and I suppose they shone a light in my face and they said if I didn't tell they would let me drown.

 

Too late! Too late! Too bad! I win! Because I always win! Which is why they are all dead and I am alive.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It wasn’t romantic at all, in the stable. Nothing personal, nothing human. It was functional, targeted, because I wouldn’t frak her anymore and she

 

Because She is a robot. A manipulative frakking frakking robot

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You don't deserve even the slightest piece of what you have.

 

You know that's true.

 

Don't cross it out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gaius,

 

I haven't read anything else in here. I wouldn't do that, I promise. But talking isn't sinking in and I need a way to say this to you that might actually have some impact.

 

Felix and I need you, but more than that, we love you, very much. And our new child, whoever that will be, will love you too. We talk and talk, and both of us have said everything that needs to be said about war. We will say it again, and we will say new things, but there is really nothing else to say, except that God has a plan for us, and while we'll never know what it is, we can have some faith in the fact that being here now means that there is more to it, more to come, that who we were doesn't have to be who we are.

 

But I think what I have just written will annoy you, so I will try this: I forgive you. For everything you have done. You are forgiven, as far as I am concerned. If that helps. You have made so many decisions about who you are now, and they are good ones, and I am so proud of you.

 

I am very proud of you, and I love you,

 

 

6/9/4

 

She shouldn't have done that. She was the one who made me start writing a diary, and it's supposed to be private.

 

Whatever is wrong with me, I know it is showing and it doesn't need to be pointed out. Of course it is showing, or she wouldn't have had to write that. Leave her alone! She should be yelling at you, and she isn't. Shut up. SHUT UP. I don't even know how bad I am being.

 

7/9/4

 

I don't know how to mediate what I deserve to feel with who I have to be, for them. To be good, I have to feel better, but if I feel better then it's as if nothing is done about all those people who are dead as a direct result of my incompetent selfishness. It's possibly better for everybody than the anxious little meltdowns of a month ago, but I am very tired. Not sleeping well, either, and then it's just worse, not better. I am so sarcastic and so nasty, and I can hear myself doing it, but it's as if I'm actually trying to dig myself a deeper hole because it's not deep enough for me. No wonder she didn't feel like talking was doing anything. Come on, alright? Just come on. Don't make it go away, and don't make it come back. It's not happening now. So snap out of it, asshole.

 

Rachel is gone now anyway. I didn't fight with her again. She can say whatever she likes. I owe her so much more than that.

 

 

8/9/4

 

Remembered that Felix saw me get drunk. C. says she took care of it, but I can't do that again. More mistakes do not make those old ones go away. They make them worse. Honestly. Yes, Gaius, maybe if you get drunk enough, it won't have happened. Why don't you try that formula, because it worked so very well for you on New Caprica. How's about you try to be even a shadow of the human being you ought to be? There's a good lad.

 

Please pay attention! THE EXPERIENCE OF ONE STATE IS NOT AN EXCUSE TO ASSUME IT COMPLETELY. You have to live with yourself, alright? That's what you have to do. Because you have a family and those are the frakking rules. She even defended you, she even said they shouldn't blame you, so you've absolutely no excuse. Don't you dare forget that.

 

C. has reminded me that my father was an alcoholic.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

14/9/4

 

Strangest thing happened today. I was out in the veges when Mrs. Adama came riding in at full speed, leapt off her horse, tied it up, ran over, and gave me a furious bear hug. I was beyond confused until it eventuated that word had spread in the village about my argument with Rachel.  It hadn't occurred to me that Mrs. would have an opinion like that, but apparently she does, and quite a firm one. She held my hand and squeezed it and laughed, and it was a very nice moment, really. I asked her what they were planning to do, but she just shrugged and said “we know.” I assume they must have some plant or other to induce miscarriage.  I might have been remiss in thinking of her society as sexist – actually, I think “warring” would be a better term. It seems that for years they had been firmly matriarchal, but the balance of power was shifting uneasily. I don't like to think that we might have had something to do with that, but it's more likely that it was already happening and we're just more in the mix. Still, in writing that I think I've assumed that women in power are somehow better than men in power. Bifurcation is bifurcation (even if powerful women are much, much sexier than powerful men.)

 

Everything is wrong with what I've just written. She's not married, and even if she was she exists fully as a person without recourse to Lee. How like my culture my writing is – there is no way to talk about her in words without either giving her a name that isn't hers or defining her in relation to a man – or, giving her a different name that isn't hers. I'm almost bold enough to ask her how she would like me to write about her (I say “almost” because I know what the answer would be: don't write about me!)  I think we own things by naming them, especially people. The moment she becomes Mrs. Adama, she is written into a certain way of thinking. But it can't really be true that all language is a complete write off, can it? I would tend to resist that, as it's all a bit Knowledge is Bad. While I went through a bit of that when we first got here, I've since changed my mind. Perhaps we just need to be careful. I'll be thinking about that for a while, I think. It's all academic, anyway. Not to mention the fact that great, sweeping decisions about humanity should not be made by me, ever.

 

She and C. are battling it out as we speak. At least I assume that's what they're doing. A lot of frantic gestures and they both look very upset. 

 

15/9/4

 

C. has since changed her stance to “I, personally, would never have an abortion.” Well done, Mrs. A.

 

Also, it's taken some the heat off me. I've been thinking about what she said and it scares the holy frakking crap out of me, to be perfectly frank. I actually tend to think the emotional issues are more pressing than the drinking, but my father's alcoholism was certainly one of his more repulsive qualities. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

17/9/4

 

Bonehead.

 

She's had two miscarriages and both times they were very, very wanted children. Of course she's funny about frakking abortion. Not to say that it's not her beliefs as well, but really and honestly, could you be even the slightest bit sensitive towards the woman you married?

 

I kept wondering why she was crying, the other night. Towards the end of her evening-long argument with Mrs. A, there was a bit of crying, and Mrs. give her a long, very tender hug, with rocking and hair stroking and that sort of thing. It goes without saying that I found this not unappealing as an image (except for the crying!), so have retained it, but at the time I didn't know what it was all about. I assumed they were just resolving the fact that they'd got so upset with each other. Which is because I'm a jerk who tends to trivialise women, despite the fact that every woman I know could beat the living shit out of me if she so desired. I've been so busy having a self-pity party that I'd actually forgotten that we lost a child. Well, I remember now.

 

 

18/9/4

 

How many abortions have I been personally responsible for?  I was trying to figure that out last night as I was drifting off to sleep and as it turns out it rather impeded the drifting process. Some of my memory isn't clear, just because of the drinking, but even with a charitable estimate the number is a lot higher than I would like. I can remember more than one example of it being not so much about Her Body, Her Choice as Pain in Gaius Baltar's Neck, Here's 200 Cubits. When I paid, that is, which actually isn't always, because I can also remember more than one lengthy tantrum about “entrapment”. Every one of them could have been a Felix.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

20/9/4

 

Hordes have descended. From nowhere. Karl, Sharon and Hera Agathon, of all people, are asleep in our sitting room. I knew they lived in the village, but had never made any effort to see them, despite interaction with Hera in the now distant past. Both Karl and Sharon feel demonstrably uneasy about both C. and I in that regard, even if we did save Hera's life. More than once, I might add, but it's probably better if I don't stress that first time. At any rate it is safe to say that there is, or has been, little love lost between us. They were alright at dinner, but it was a bit uncomfortable. Lee sees them from time to time, I think, because he's mentioned them. And Lee and Company are in Felix's room and Felix is in with us.

 

Karl is very firmly pro-choice on the whole abortion thing, but Sharon made a really excellent argument: either way, it's just none of our business when it comes to the indigenous New Earthers. We don't get to say yes to abortion, and we don't get to say no. We get to say nothing, unless it concerns us personally (Sharon, personally, is like C., but she doesn't think she should get to dictate that stance to the world at large.) Karl then said that having Rachel as the doctor was a problem, because she appears to have a greater technical knowledge, and Earthers do come to her, even if they do know about the plant – so either we share technology with the people who are here or we don't, and if we do, we are obligated to do so ethically. While I agree completely, I have no idea what the correct ethics might be, and even if I did I am sharply aware that I would be the worst possible person to dictate them. I am starting to think that this whole plan, even living here, was very, very wrong, right from the beginning and I'd rather keep right out of it. It's a giant mess. And they are all at our house because they want me to be Dr. Abortion, if only for the Colonials. I can't do that! If for no other reason, I am not a gynaecologist, and my medical knowledge of women's reproductive systems is academic at best. Besides, I don't LIKE abortion. I just happen to think it is a necessary right. And now it's this frakking “issue” and it's none of my business and I'm already tired of it and I'd be asleep right now if I could.

 

21/9/4

 

A while after I'd bunked off to work, C. came out to get me for lunch and she was a bit upset. In all honesty I understand why she's less than thrilled about all this abortion talk. It is bizarre to be talking about it when we're both waiting for a child that we want so much, and she has probably gone three months now, but I don't feel safe. Sometimes I think she is not as stupid about all this as I thought she was. Social bifurcations aside, she will never, ever have an abortion with me.

 

And Community Abortion Breakfast was irritating as all hell. Lee and Mrs. Lee and Karl and Sharon, with Hera and Felix and Kara all hopped up on early morning children juice, was much too many people for me first thing. I'm afraid I was a bit terse. Actually, I'm not afraid, it's already happened, and I was very terse. I did try to rein it in. No I didn't. That's a complete lie. I was an unapologetically irritable bastard and after a solid half hour of my snapping, Felix finally said “shut up, Daddy!” which was a fair point, even if it was cheeky. And it made tea come out of Sharon's nose.  That's quite a funny image when I recall it now, but this morning it was all part of a tapestry of Things That Aren't Silence. More than anything I wished I could still smoke cigarettes. Big groups of people always have made me want to smoke. Recognising that makes me realise that even when I loved being at the centre of attention it wasn't because I loved myself.

 

More talk tonight. I wish I didn't have to be here. I'm not the President and I'm not in charge of a religion and when I was those things I was unspeakably horrible at them. Tempted to ruin it with alcohol so they'll leave me alone.

 

22/9/4

 

What I didn’t understand is why they don’t just tell everyone to use the plant who wants to and leave it at that. If idiot Rachel won’t do abortions, then they should just use the plant and have done with it. But Mrs. Adama says that her people won’t give colonials the plant, so I said, why don’t you just tell them what plant it is then, and she said she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

 

At this point, both Lee and Karl got indignant, and Mrs. haltingly explained that it was about power – that power was shifting and it was uneasy, and that she wasn’t sure she wanted to give over the only technology her people had, especially since it was complicated to begin with. Men were asking questions that they weren’t supposed to ask, she said, and that was dangerous. I was quite curious about that and I might have asked her something, but Karl said, it’s not technology, it’s a plant, and Lee said, when did this become about your people and our people, and besides, whose people is Kara. They were both talking, on top of each other and over her until Mrs. held up one hand and said “technology” and the other and said “culture” and brought them together loudly and they shut up. It was quite something.

It was also the point at which I started to understand what she was really saying. Sharon voiced more or less exactly what I was thinking: “you mean it’s like us,” she said. “With medicine we have knowledge. About the body and about diseases, and that’s a kind of technology. But it’s our culture too, because we only have it from our history, and it reflects what we are.” Funny that she calls it “our culture.” But Mrs. doesn’t know that, I don’t think she sees much distinction between the cylons and us, and she said yes. Then C. said, “yes, of course knowledge is a kind of power. You know that, don’t you?” Then she put her hand on Mrs.’ arm.

 

Sharon said “so who’s going to get to have power over this, over us?” and Mrs. said nothing. But C. said, to her, not to Sharon, “this isn’t about their power. This is about women.” C. has a different voice for command. I had forgotten it. Every time I think of her as my wife she ceases to be a person who founded a rebellion and invasion effort and honestly, considering it now I have no idea whether she would prefer me to remember this about her or to forget it.  But Mrs. linked fingers with her and said “we ARE their power.”

 

The balance of power had certainly shifted in our sitting room, because I was brought up short by that. The other boys were too, I think, since after a period of being quiet, Karl, Lee and I quietly excused ourselves, and went outside for a drink (I had three. No more, no less.) Lee said he was tempted to find out about the plant himself, and it was a good point, but I’m with Karl, who said  (with an excellent but un-transcribable facial expression – he went sort of bug-eyed, but that doesn’t really convey it) “I think this might be Women’s Business.”

 

I gaffed with Karl, too. I keep getting Sharon mixed up with the other Sharon, with Boomer. I shouldn’t, really, because Boomer, at least on New Caprica, was a gold plated bitch. The fact that they looked exactly the same shouldn’t matter, especially not when I consider my own personal roll call of number six models (one of whom, I’m ashamed to admit, I didn’t even know the name of.) The eights are sexy, though. Boomer was always sexy, especially with that short leather jacket she used to wear (I think C. has it now, actually.) And she had lovely breasts, too, judging the eights I saw on the base ship. But that’s really not the point. Really. Not the point. Sharon is clearly bright and insightful, and irrespective of her breasts Karl is lucky to have her. He was good about my slip, though. He let it go.

 

23/9/4

 

Everyone's gone now, but I had a really nice morning, actually. The girls were still talking (they'd gone to bed in the interim, of course, but all of them seemed to wake up in full swing) so we took the kids out for a bit to give them a bit of quiet. It was remarkably – and surprisingly - pleasant. Somewhere, in the last four years, we've become Dads, with all the sedate paternalism that the term implies.

 

Every so often, I remember that if not for Karl, I would actually be dead. I would have died on Caprica, all those years ago. Often, when I have remembered that, I have wondered if that might have been the best thing to have happened, because then nothing else would have. I still think that from time to time, but today it occurred to me to be grateful. It's not the kind of thing one can say, though.

 

Karl is a pretty upstanding fellow in general, really. I can see why he and Lee get on. They had a lengthy argument about government and the tensions in the village, which was boring, but it was interesting to listen to in terms of who they were. Lee is supremely idealistic, of course, but I think Karl is just Ethical, and that capital letter is completely intentional. Hera, too, is growing up well. I thought I would have funny feelings about her (not sex ones! Good lord, she's, what, nine? I feel that should be qualified, even in here, just in case someone were to read it. For the record: I have no sexual desires towards little girls! Not now, and not ever!) because of everything with the war but I don't, really. She's just a nice, well-mannered child and mature for her age. She was very good with Felix and Kara, and they both loved her. Felix went into a bit of a sulk when she left. I'd like to promise him that we'll see her again, but that might be asking a bit much of the Agathons, considering.  For now I'm just pleased to be in my own house with my own family and without any politics. It was wonderful to see Lee, though. I do wonder how he is sometimes. We've not had much of a chance to really talk since the night Kara was born and he seems a bit withdrawn these days, and he and Mrs. seem a bit ratty with each other. It turns out, actually, that I worry about Lee now too. Which I suppose is because I love him. 

 

C. clearly wants to have a chat about everything. I really don't want to but I suppose I'll have to. She is looking at me and I've written a full page and she knows I won't write much more. Keep writing. I'm busy with writing. Don't want to talk about abortion. Don't. Want. To. Talk. About. Abortion. I just want to be left alone and I want our child to be born and everything to be alright and nothing bad to happen and nobody to talk to me except the small panel of people that I have already approved.

 

One more thing: Karl, I think, had good parents. Which is fair enough, really. Between Lee and I, the market on Problems With Mummy And Daddy is sort of cornered, and they can't have all been awful.

 

Alright C., I give up. Talking it is.

 

 

 

 

 

 

25/9/4

 

C. thinks I should train Mrs. A. I should give her my knowledge. For the colonials, too. It is the best idea I have ever heard, especially since it doesn't involve my having to be involved at all once I'm done with the teaching part. Sharon agrees, apparently, and Mrs. A. said she would do it, if I would. I did say I'm not a gynaecologist, but C. said it didn't matter, because aside from Rachel, I am the next most qualified, and that is actually true. I have delivered one child, and I didn't kill her, or Felix. And the miscarriage. I did do a good impression of a real live doctor during that. But then, nothing dangerous happened, and it could have. And I would have no advice to offer, beyond the following: 1) Panic. 2) Cry.

 

So many things can go wrong! One can rip the uterus, or miss a bit, which gets infected. It's all very, very dangerous. Maybe this isn't a good idea at all.

 

 

26/9/4

 

What I would teach her, I suppose, would have to be D&C, because there's no vacuum tech. If they don't have the equipment, those things could actually be made. They need not be metal, though they probably should be. I know how to do a D&C though I've never done one, since I've never even done the smallest bit of general practice. How the frak a dilator is made I can only speculate, but I think I remember what that it looks like, and we can go from there. She won't use it anyway. She'll just have to know it, so they'll come. And then she can give them what she already knows. C. says this. I know she says it to make me feel better, but I choose to believe that it is also the truth, because the alternative is to go on talking. 

 

She and Felix are going to stay here but I ride out tomorrow for Mrs. A. Then, that's it. She'll come up, and I'll train her, and that will be it. No more frakking politics and that is my final word on the matter. That is IT. No more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

29/9/4

 

 

What a different way of thinking about the body, but, once again, what similarities. It is all connected, just as the universe is, but where I see a driver, she sees a system, eternally feeding itself. I can draw as much as I want to but I suspect we might have to have a look at a real woman. Until then, it's all theory.  Having said this, she knows the bits pretty well. They all do, she tells me. The women all know, and they teach each other. The men don't know, and they're not allowed to know. She conveys that she found it strange when Cottle was the doctor, and she feels the same about me.

 

I'd like to give her my microscope but I'm not sure I could live without it. She'd only need it for pathology, anyway. And most of that can be done with reactive cultures.

 

 

30/9/4

 

Lee arrived this morning. He and Kara had stayed down in the village, but I suppose he missed his woman. She wasn't that happy to see him. They went for a long walk and we watched Kara. Don't know what that was about.

 

I am unhappy to be interrupted, if I’m honest. When we talked about childbirth, I told her about C., and Felix, and she gave me an incredulous look and asked “you know gravity?”

 

It was a profoundly good point. Gravity. One of the most obvious and permanent of forces, yet somehow it had been forgotten by our medicine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

2/10/4

 

Lee has relationship problems. I didn't know, but it makes sense now and I suppose it is normal. The kind of problems that C. and I had, in some ways. Dad problems. I don't think he knew it was coming. I think he felt it'd all been worked out, which, obviously, it wasn't. It was an odd choice to call Kara Kara, I have to say. Pretty good of Mrs., really, but he says it was her idea. And Kara has another name, anyway: two hands, interlocking fingers, and the hands are cupped upwards (though it isn’t actually Kara’s name until Kara herself offers one of the hands.) It’s actually possible that Kara’s colonial name doesn’t matter much to Mrs., though I didn’t say this to Lee, obviously. Things are complicated enough. 

 

She doesn't get fed up, the way C. does, either. Instead she just moves off, as if she’s bored. It's as if, to her, their relationship never had any guarantee of permanence, which is clearly very hard for Lee to accept, especially since, because he has worries, she pulls away too. I can imagine that about her, actually. From teaching her, once something seems needlessly complicated, she no longer cares for it, and I can see how that would apply similarly to a personal context and be a problem. She thinks practically, functionally. He says she doesn't always want that to be the way it has to be, he says, but it is hard for her to change, and even as she recognises the flaw it's all tied up in this broader context of power. Her responsibilities are very important to her. He should understand that, really, and I think he does, but it's difficult.

 

I knew I was right about the frakking Admiral. I don't care what Lee says. That was appalling of Bill. Lee is his son. He won't ever know his granddaughter. He could even be dead, and he probably is. All Lee knows how to do is re-write it so it's alright and so it's noble, but it isn't. Or, even if it was, it was the wrong kind. Laura had died and Lee is his son and very much alive. And then he says “I shouldn't think so much about it,” and nonsense like that. In my humble opinion, he has every reason for thinking about it and it would be in his best interests to get good and frakking angry at him, but he says he's already done that. I didn't know him, really, back then. Except the public face, which, of course, was Righteous.

 

 

3/10/4

 

Just realised yesterday's entry was mostly about Lee. Yes! Didn't even notice when I was writing it.

Pretty proud of that. Who's self involved now?! Also, I was jealous of Karl and I feel better now that I know Lee tells me more.

 

You can shut up, conscience. I'm allowed to be a dick in my own diary, and so there.

 

4/10/4

 

I'm very lucky with C., really. A lot of ups and downs, of course, but once a decision has been made, it has been made. I've always known what she wanted. I'm proud of our relationship, and our family. Especially considering how it started. It shouldn't have worked, but it ~~did~~ has so far. 

 

What makes me think of it is that Lee also said Mrs. had told him about our miscarriage and he was very sorry. He said he wouldn't have pushed so hard if he'd known. But it was alright. I think he did the right thing. Of course he did. He is Lee Adama. That's the only thing he knows how to do: The Right Thing. He was the first person besides C. I had spoken to about it, and it turns out the sadness had blunted a little, and also that she and I had come through it together. I didn't have much to say when Lee brought it up (except that I thought I had already told him, but he says definitely not) but in a strange way it was nice to get confirmation from the outside world that it really had been sad. Don't know what that's about. Misery loves company, I suppose. He left a couple of days ago now, but for some reason I keep thinking about what he said.

 

5/10/4

 

Forgotten about the frakking soap. Idiot!

 

 

 

 

11/10/4

 

In the end they just gave us some, which was easier than trying to find out who was making lye. Not much, though, because it's the hard kind, with the salt, which means it's pretty valuable.

 

IT ALSO MEANS THAT IT IS NOT A SOLUTION! You'll have to have another go at the lye. you'll actually have to make something to make it in, because if you do it right you won't have to use any extra ash and it's actually not that hard if you could bloody remember to water it right but not let it get extra, and also, it would save making a frakking four hour ride for frakking soap (eight hours, for a return journey). We need a shed, is what we need. Not one with horses in it, or for smoking meat, just a shed. For shed things, like making the kind of acids you need for soap and possibly we could keep all the farm tools in there, instead of in the house. In the shed. Upon which construction begins tomorrow. I have so much WORK to do. All of this is so much WORK.

 

Not happy about Lee. He seems depressed, actually. If I wasn't so worried about C., I would have stayed for longer, like he did for me. As it was, I could only manage a night, and that in a low-grade wakeful panic. She's fine, though. I needn't have worried. He says, now, after having worried for two days solid. It's not going to go away until the child is born, so I'm just going to have to manage it to the best of my meagre abilities. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

15/10/4

 

I'm going to give Mrs. A the microscope. I don't want to. I really don't. I'd like to keep it, for Felix more than anything else, but she does need it. Reactive cultures should really be studied under the lens, and that is far more likely to be accurate. And she'll just have more tools, and she should have more tools. And she had a natural feeling for it and I know she will treat it well. I have to give it to her. Next time, I will.  Really. I will.

 

I miss my electric one. It can go on the list with the phone and the coffee.

 

16/10/4

 

Hello, great big tits! They've been a bit up and down, considering, but here they are, and they are excellent. I probably shouldn't be thinking about my intelligent, thoughtful and deeply human (or Cylon) wife as a pair of tits, but they're hard to miss, really. I wonder if they throw off her balance? I should ask, actually. And I should talk to her in general because we've been a bit estranged with all the politics and everything else.

 

17/10/4

 

Felix a bit jealous about the tits. I think he misses being breastfed, poor kid. I certainly don't blame him.

 

C. says they do throw her off a bit. They're born fully grown, Cylons, or, the numbered models were, so she never had that awkward puberty stage that humans have. I remember that. Getting very hairy all of a sudden and also being extremely disappointed once I figured out that 5'7” was going to be my full adult height. I'm shorter than my mother was! I very much hope Felix will get C.'s height. He has her hair, after all, although it is getting darker by degrees, and actually, I think he will have dark hair eventually. Funny, that. I was blond too when I was a child, according to the photographs.

 

It's only just occurred to me, but I'm not even sure she will age. She hasn't, really, though I assume she will, because her hair has grown and all that. Only on her head, though. She has none under her arms, or on her legs. Funny, too, that the supposed ideal of a woman doesn't grow hair in natural places.  When I think about that, I remember Mrs. A., and what she said in our sitting room: “We ARE their power.” Whoever it was that decided that women shouldn't have hair must have had very little else to occupy themselves.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

20/10/4

 

I was also going to find out something about cheese making too because we have been milking the goat, but nobody down in the village churns, or even milks. They don't have dairy at all, so I have no advice about cheese. I know it is made with rennet, but I don't know how to get that. Dry a stomach, I suppose. Less waste – because I usually bury the entrails wholesale, because I don't care what anyone says, tripe is gross and no family of mine will eat it.  The only exception is liver, which I save for C., for the iron. But just for her, because I cannot bring myself to eat liver. It tastes like my childhood; of disappointment and unpleasant feelings. It also literally tastes about as bitter as it makes me feel, hilariously enough. As for cheese, time for trial and error, the bread and butter of real science. Perhaps I can get Felix to help me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

26/10/4

 

Work, work, work. Too much of the same thing to bother writing about, except for the dried stomach. Not sure I know which part is the rennet.

 

Wanted to write this, though: thoughts of the other side do not console me, if they ever did. I believe, in so much as I believe in anything, which isn't very much, that abortion is a right that women should have – or, at least, they should accept or deny this right without recourse to men. But I can't forget about all the little children my knowledge will send into the ether. I think, somewhere, I was obligated to keep my hands especially clean, to be allowed to keep what I have, and I think I have failed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

29/10/4

 

What on Brand New Earth happened last night?! C. and I having our evening cup of tea, and I was having a little whine about the abortion and my dirty hands and et cetera and she lost the plot. At first I thought it was going to be the standard “that's too much self pity for somebody's father” riot act and my feelings were a little hurt because I haven't been that bad lately and besides, it wasn't self pity so much as legitimate pain, but it wasn't that anyway. She told me that my reasoning was faulty and then she cried a little, angrily. I tried to give her a hug but she told me to frak off.

 

I'm pretty sure I haven't done anything wrong (by her, recently.) In fact, I am a hundred percent sure. I have been good, but more than that, just usual. It was totally irrational, obviously, given she was insulting me for no reason at all, so I just went to bed without saying anything. I got up before her and I must have been asleep when she came in. 

 


	5. Punish and Reward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gaius examines the complicated framework of "deserving things."

30/10/4

 

Nothing today, either. Well, if she's going to be a surprise bitch then she can just deal with it. I have work to do anyway.

 

Are you going to talk to me, Caprica? I can see you thinking about it while you're making Felix eat his breakfast, but you're not going to, are you? Well, fine. If it's silence you want, then silence you shall have.

 

 

 

 

 

2/11/4

 

This morning, while I was weeding, C. came out and crouched down beside me, a little heavily, too, because she’s starting to have a proper bump, which was nice to see, no matter how mad I was at her. At first she didn’t say anything, so I kept weeding because she was the one who started it. Then she took my hand out of the ground and kissed it, even though it was literally dirty, and she gave me a full and frank apology for talking about god the way she had. It took me some time to twig what was going on, but that’s it, apparently. She was sorry she had convinced me that judgement was involved. God is love, et cetera, and there’s no such thing as punishment.

 

She said, she hadn’t realized what it did until she heard me say it like I had the other night. It’s was hurting her too, though, this punishment thing, that kind of idea of god and she said she knew, and I hope to Not God that she does, because every other time I’ve tried to say something like that, she’s looked at me like I could never, ever understand, as if it were so simple I must have trouble dressing myself not to know. This time she didn’t look at me like that. We stood up and she gave me a long hug and kissed me and apologised effusively. I gave her a bit of a kiss and said it was alright, then she went back to laundry and I went back to weeding and I feel a lot better.

 

Pat me, and I’ll roll over, again, I see. Well, that may true but I don’t care. I agree with her and I feel a lot better and it was nice when she hugged me, and so frakking there. Felix came out shortly after and she had talked to him too and he wanted some clarification from me.

 

But it’s never even been that she disagrees with me. It’s that

 

Actually, I don’t know what it is. I only know that bringing it up with her makes me feel ridiculous, yet scares the crap out of me, and so I don’t.  There’s been a regime change in the Baltar household. This I shall accept.

 

Writing that, giving us my name, I recalled that we’re still not actually married. I really don’t care, but I wonder if she does? Two children born out of wedlock, and all that. Not to mention the filthy, un or pre-procreative and utterly kinky pre-marital sex.

 

 

3/11/4

 

She does not. The only official dictum is “be fruitful.” And there’s nobody in charge enough to care if we do it wrong. Lee isn’t either – but that’s because he’s been married once and that means he can’t be again. Officially, that is. We never talk about god (or The Gods, because in so much as Lee was religious, I assume it was the Lords of Kobol that he believed in, rather than my prankish pal, the One God.) But he must, somewhere, think about it. Seeing as he got married. But then, the Admiral was an atheist, apparently. And, actually, Lee’s always given me the impression that he’s got no particular opinion about god. He’s a “there are things beyond my understanding, and that’s just fine” man. Lee’s a thinker, but not a scientist. He’s interested in people, rather than phenomena.

 

She and I talked about it a bit, actually. But beyond that first assertion, not a lot more was said.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

14/11/4

 

Felix has asked if he can learn to write. Soon enough, I suppose. I wonder what he thinks I'm doing in here?

 

Churning makes my arms hurt so I've fobbed it off on C.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

20/11/4

 

Hello Felix Baltar, Goat Whisperer! Goaty gave Felix an almighty butt today, and he has wound up with quite a bruise. What's amazing is that he didn't even cry, though he looked like he wanted to. Instead, he got up, and walked back over, and started telling her off. Not telling her off, exactly, but explaining to her why it wasn't nice, patiently, if somewhat dictatorially. Good luck, Felix.

 

I asked why, later, (because, while I don't want to forbid him from being friends with the goat, it's obvious that he could get himself pretty hurt) and he said that there was no reason why she couldn't understand him because she is every bit as alive as we are, and she was probably just mad about something else. There is, of course, a very good reason as to why she can't understand him – she is a goat. But I take his point. I hope he doesn't figure out that meat is made of animals quite yet because I've no idea how we'd make up the iron if he goes vegie. C. says spinach but that takes about ten times as much. Still, he's not even three, so I doubt we have to worry too much. He'll have forgotten about it tomorrow.

 

The bruise looks alright, but sore. Poor kid. We do suffer for love.

 

21/11/4

 

Only just realized that Felix has apparently made the transition from people's feelings being about him to being about them. I hope that's natural development, and not a reflection of the amount of repair work C. had to do when I was

 

What would she have had to say? Don't worry, Felix. Your father's just a

 

Thank god she's here to tell him. Thank frakking god. I could never be thankful enough for that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

13/12/4

 

Happy birthday, Felix. He is three years old today. We have nothing in the way of birthday cakes, or even sugar, so she makes a pie of sorts. That's our tradition now. Birthday pie.

 

It was a very nice day. We all went out for a walk and that was pretty much the sum of it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

27/12/4

 

She is suddenly compulsively horny, my beautiful, sexy darling. Which, if my recollection is clear, should put her somewhere between six and seven months. She's certainly big enough. We spent a very nice night last night frakking each other in all the ways we could practically think of. Almost too tired to do any work.

 

 

28/12/4

 

Last night she licked the inside of my thigh, all the way up from the knee. The conclusion is obvious, but it's that lead-up I can't forget. Over and over again I remember it, occasionally looking up now, across the breakfast table where she is talking to one child and has her hand, on her belly, on another while she drinks her tea. She is a functional social person at this time, and last night she was the same. Only the context has changed.

 

Soulful, Gaius. Well done.  That's a nice, deep way of introducing the fact that you have an erection at breakfast.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

30/12/4

 

Woken up in the wee hours by Mrs. A and Kara. Lee has gone off, apparently, and with no warning. What is it with men? Honestly. I'm ashamed of my gender. She was in tears and I've never seen her so out of control. They must have set out as soon as they found him missing, thinking he might be here, which isn't what she'd normally do, so things must have been pretty bad. He isn't, obviously, here, or I'd have known about it by now. He'd better come back soon. This kind of behaviour isn't remotely like him, and I don't know what to tell her. C. is doing a much better job. She gave me Kara to look after, but she's asleep now. Felix sitting across from me working on his letters. He's a good boy, and he knows when it's time to be quiet.

 

It's actually incredibly touching that she would come to us after everything that's happened. I suppose I did teach her.

 

1/1/5

 

Mrs. A. is angry because she wanted to run away and she had purposefully not. I didn't say anything, but I'm a bit sorry for poor Kara. No word from Lee, and she said she left word in the village.

 

2/1/5

 

Feel a bit better doing the hunting with Mrs. A at home with C., so stayed longer and got two. Buried the guts, except for stomach. C. refuses to eat any more liver. She says it is chalky. It is.

 

When I got in, they had the kids in the tub and then they were all lovely and clean at dinner, like little angels, in appearance if not in temperament.

 

 

 

 

 

 

4/1/5

 

Lee arrived last night. He just walked in the door and stood there and C. and I quietly watched him and the Mrs. face off. Silently. They did it without a word. It was all in the eyes. She took a deep breath, through her nose, as if she was counting to ten and he looked right back at her, evenly, and not even slightly ashamed. Then he walked over and picked up Kara and hugged and kissed her, and then Felix got jealous, so Lee gave him a hug too (then I took him, because it clearly wasn't the time.) Lee said, to me, “sorry” and “thank you.” And then they left. Really. That's it. Felix cried because he hadn't got to say goodbye to Kara and because he hadn't got to play with Lee, but I had nothing to tell him.  What I would have said, had Felix been a bit older, is not fit to transcribe.

 

I think he'd just Taught Her A Lesson. I think that's what it was. What a frakking jerk! When we next speak, I will say exactly that.  He might have been a better president than me, but he is about on par as a husband.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

6/1/5

 

Hello, cheese, tomato and butter on cornbread! Out of everything that has ever happened to me, only the birth of my son has made me happier.

 

Felix not terribly impressed by the cheese. It's like feta, but not as salty, because we don't have a lot of salt and it's hard to get. But it's close. And he doesn't like it. What does he know? It is a gourmet cheese and I'm rather proud of it. C. can't have any because it's a soft cheese, but she will in a few months.

 

There are a lot of other cheeses, actually, but I think I might have reached the limit of my cheese making abilities. Well done, Gaius. It's a good cheese.

 

 

7/1/5

 

Felix is really coming along. He has got the whole alphabet pretty well. The real shame is, once he can read, there's really nothing for him to read. That is a shame. Of all the books we have, aside from my prison notes, which I would really rather he left off until he was older, if he's going to read them at all, we have only four. One is, I think, a detective novel, which was not ours and I don't know how it got in our bags. The other three are literature type novels, which actually were Felix Gaeta's. I think I have read them, which must have at college since I haven't read any fiction since then. The only one that would be suitable for him is the one about the fish, though it's a bit dark if I recall correctly. I should re-read it to check, really.

 

8/1/5

 

Found a photograph in the book of Felix Gaeta and I. He looks so bright in it. Hopeful. It must have been just after the election, since he's wearing a suit and not his uniform and he clearly doesn't loathe me, and, also, he has both his legs. How funny that he'd kept this. It's possible he hadn't read the book again since then, but that's unlikely, I think. He always read, and he always had favourites, and I know that this was one of them, because he told me, on the night he died.

 

I'm tempted to show it to Felix. He doesn't know who he got his name from, and he'd wanted people to know who he was. It was, in fact, his last request. Though I think, given the list of executions and the cowardly, manipulative conduct of his father, it's a story that should probably wait until Felix is older. He did once ask about the scar on my neck where F.G. stabbed me, but I think I lied about what it was.

 

The book was quite good. Funny. Funny strange, not funny humorous.

 

9/1/5

 

C. thinks it's too soon. They need a little more space. But she thinks I should go. She's not impressed by Lee's disappearing act, though I suppose it probably cut a little close to the bone after the obvious similarities to mine, because she does sympathise. She's close with Mrs. A., but they're very different, she says. They're the same because they both know how to just get on with it, and they both have such a sense of duty, but where they're different is the idea that that duty has to include a man. That made me extremely uncomfortable. As if she hasn't left me because she isn't feminist enough.

 

10/1/5

 

C. laughed and laughed and laughed at me when I asked her about the feminism thing. She said I didn't understand it at all. I think I still don't.

 

I wouldn't have asked but it was really bothering me. It's not any more but now the fact that she laughed at me is. It's not that stupid of a question. Obviously. Or I wouldn't have asked.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

13/1/5

 

It's family, of course. She believes in family. It made a lot more sense when she said it could have been a woman, it just had to be another person. And that making a strong relationship with that person was a part of the package. She's not totally straight. I do tend to forget that, because, of course, we have been living together, making children together the heterosexual way for six years, and besides, she's such a girl's girl and not at all dykey. She is, I think, a bisexual, to use the colloquial. All the sixes are, apparently. That's just part of their design. They swing either way. Well, I'm glad she swung at me.

 

It's hot that I'm married to a girl who likes girls. I wish we could test that theory a bit more. I have such nice memories of she and I and D'anna. It's lovely sleeping in a bed with two girls, even leaving aside the sex part, which, obviously, is excellent. Then again, I have a vague memory of talking about all this with her before and being resoundingly shot down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

20/1/5

 

What to say to Lee? He's come up of his own accord, sans family, which seems just a little bit on the nose considering. But he says he is here with full permission and in fact with Mrs.' insistence. She must be furious at him! We are about to have dinner and I have excused myself ostensibly to check up on the meat situation, but obviously I am doing this instead. What the frak am I supposed to say? I think he behaved really badly but I don't know the full story and besides I am in no position to judge.

 

That looks like a good answer: find out the full story and don't judge. I feel utterly confused about all of this. I'd come to terms with the care and the power part, that I could be sympathetic and loving and things but I've got no idea how to give him advice. I thought I did and I was all geared up to but this is much too serious. I'd rather have the abortion panel back.

 

 

21/1/5

 

I woke up with a nasty burn on my forearm I didn't even remember getting and now I know why. C. has informed Lee and I that we set fire to a bush last night. I've no idea why we did that. Presumably, it's because we were three sheets to the wind and it seemed like a good idea at the time. Or perhaps mathematics has the answer? 2x complete idiots + excessive alcohol consumption = shrubbery arson?

 

I never did that sort of thing when I was younger. It was pretty much just sex and drugs. I never did the things people do when they're on drugs. Until now, apparently. I have a child and one on the way and now is the time I choose to set fire to things that don't need burning.

 

I should probably be less impressed with myself. I am very, very hungover so that helps a little.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

24/1/5

 

How utterly bizarre it is that life just goes on happening. This is the thing that I can't get over. Today, I have just been struck by it. I am so occupied with something, or whatever, and time, moments are just slipping past me and change has happened. I thought of it today because of C., because I was busy and all of a sudden I noticed her and she’s very pregnant and I think we are nearly there. I had been so worried and now, writing, it occurs to me to be so again, but some of life had got in the way of my being worried. As if it were happening anyway. As if I have less power over the universe than I thought I did. This is remarkably comforting, actually.

 

25/1/5

 

Don't forget! Water! Water! Water!

 

Dear physical body and olfactory senses,

 

I know you are not looking forward to rendering the fat, but while frakking up the lye will grant you a brief reprive, it will also mean no soap. Do it now. Go on. There’s a good lad.

Fondly,

Dr. Gaius Baltar (brain)

 

 

 

 

 

 

2/2/5

 

Never did write about what I said to Lee. This is partly because I didn't remember much of it the following morning, given that we had finished off everything out of the still and I've since had to set it all up again. But I do now, or at least the gist, and it's interesting because I don't think I did say that much. I mostly just let him talk and what I did say were things about me. And then we set fire to a bush. For which I am relatively certain there was a good reason. 

 

I gave him my microscope for Mrs. It was a sad moment. I had to say goodbye to a bit of my old life, and it was really the only bit that I didn't hate. Lee is a good man, and I think he understood that. He is a good man and he and his wife and daughter will be fine. Even if they aren't, they'll be fine. I know that now. He's not like me, with all these things to atone for. He's just a good man and they'll work it out. All this running away nonsense is over.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

9/2/5

 

Ironically for something that is designed to facilitate cleanliness, the production of soap ranks as the grossest, smelliest, dirtiest process on Brand New Earth, and next time I will make it outside, because the new shed is currently unusable, which is a bit sad because I had all my preservation experiments in there, but it's done, and I did it, and now we have a nice pot full of useful brown jelly that we can use for washing things (or at least, we will tomorrow.)

 

Today was very productive in that regard. I also collected six very nice pumpkins and there was a good red sunset, which means it will be a nice day tomorrow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

11/2/5

 

The smell is a lot better after two day's work and another couple of baths.

 

Shed absolutely reeks, though. Take the door off tomorrow, I think.

 

 

 

 

 

 

13/2/5

 

Tonight she told me that people had used me. Including her, and including about this. We were outside, watching the evening come on and Felix was in bed and she said that, because I was talking about abortion again, and I didn't know what she meant, but once she explained it, it made a lot of sense. I didn't have any faith and I didn't think, I can never think further than my own immediate wants, and that means it is easy for bigger things to use me. People with bigger ideas. Even god, and the angels, and even if it was for good. The thing is, with people, they wouldn't have known it was for good, they would have just thought they were right. It's also because I was a coward, but she hates when I say that, even though she used to say it herself. I think she's sorry about that, but she shouldn't be, because it was true. It probably still is, but there's no war, so it's a lot less pressing

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

15/2/5

 

More thoughts from the ether: it occurred to me today that I miss music. I cared so little for art. I had lots and I went to lots of art events and knew lots of artists but I didn't really care. But I actually miss music. I miss my records and I wish I could sing. She can. F.G. could, too. He had the most amazing voice.

 

 

20/2/5

 

She's back to the can't sleep stage and I think it is making the emotional part a lot harder for her. She'd talked on and off about it, but she never falls right over it like I do. She's so tired and irritable though. It can't be helping. A couple of times, she has got really frustrated with what she is doing, or at me (but not at Felix, good girl), and sometimes I wish I were taller, because while I can put my arm around her, she really can't lean against me the way I can against her, unless we're both sitting down. I'm about exactly the right size to put my hand on her ass, so it always comes off as a bit of a come on.

 

Felix a bit bratty so I’m assuming that we're being a bit off focus.

 

21/2/5

 

What the frak am I going to do about the sibling problem? Felix in his room, after throwing a tantrum, and it occurs to me that what if he never adjusts? He is used to being an only child and there are so many more opportunities to frak up a dynamic of two children than just one. I can't split my focus terribly well. She can – she's lots better at that, just in general – but if I am thinking about her, it's hard for me to think about him and so on and on and on. Frak. I'm just not very smart, really. I am an actual officially certified genius, but that's only for science and numbers and useless nonsense like that. It occurs to me that I might actually have some kind of brain disorder – that all that genius comes from having a narrow focus, like mental or emotional tunnel vision. Like I might be autistic, or something. As well as being a manic-depressive alcoholic. Great.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

25/2/5

 

C. teases me all the time that genius is a word they made up for me to give me something to hang my ego on. It used to make me sulk for ages (once, literally, for days, but in my defence I was very tired from laying out the entirety of the village's fields and it was mean of her to tease me at all) but now I think it is quite funny, if only for its accuracy. Because, the thing is, it's a definition that has no practical application whatsoever in our present life. I can only be as clever as I am useful. She made this joke today and I didn't even think about it on these terms until now, because I was just so pleased that she made a joke at all, since it means she is not lost in a world of unhappiness. At least I hope it does.

 

She spoke to Felix this morning, about the child. It was very tender and lovely, and it's amazing the way she holds him when he sits on her lap, as if she's not even really holding him, but I know how strong she is. She said that we would always love him. Which, of course, we will. She's trying to get him excited about the elder brother role, and it seems to be working. I wish I'd thought of it, actually.

 

26/2/5

 

She had a bit of a cry tonight, which is good. I do love her. It is so strange to love a person, because, when she cries, I wish I could just take it all out of her and make it go away, but the more I take away from her, the less she is able to be that person, strong and intelligent and so forth. Mediating it, listening and taking and fixing and giving, being good to her without saving her, is all so complicated. I really do love her, and for all time, it would seem, so that means I am obligated to try.

 

I am so glad she told me. She is afraid and guilty and of course she shouldn't be, because I don’t blame her, but I am so glad she told me, because I want to know. We are very close right now. I wish it would stay this way, but the thing is, I know it won't. It never does. We come close and then we come apart and then we come close again, and that just seems to be the way it is.

 

 

 

 

 

4/3/5

 

Dreamed last night that there was another war. Woke up very afraid. She was in the sitting room, awake too, so we had some tea and a bit of a cuddle. Not much talking. She just lay against me and I held her, because if I can hold tight enough, I can make it recede. Funny feeling – so, so tired, but it's impossible to sleep. We're really just holding our breath now.

 

That's not great, because the way she's carrying we're only weeks out, if that, and once the child is born, there will be very little chance for decent sleep for a little while. Felix could cry for hours without a break for those first few weeks. I read my diaries from then recently, to sort of prepare myself, and it's funny that I never wrote about that. I think I just didn't want to say anything bad because I was so lucky to have him. Also, I was so busy having a slow nervous collapse (I really was crazy. The funny thing is, I kept right on writing as if everybody else was and I was fine) that I think C. dealt with a lot more of the practical stuff, especially since most of his crying was because he wanted feeding. But he really could cry. Like a champion. I reflect on myself now and I find it darkly hilarious that I was probably staring into his crib thinking about the miracle of life while he went for it, and not bothering to do anything about it except look at him and think about myself.

 

5/3/5

 

C. has been thinking about baby Felix crying a lot. I mentioned it and she gave me such a look, even if she did quickly try to cover it, and I don't think I'm completely forgiven for that, whatever she writes to me in my diary. In fact, she told me in no uncertain terms that I was absolutely forbidden to have a breakdown. She was sort of joking but she really sort of wasn't.

 

So: I have taken this on board and I wholeheartedly promise god and the universe and whatever else that I will try my absolute level best not to have another nervous breakdown.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

17/3/5

 

Hello, Julia! Happy birthday! Welcome to the world!

 

At this very moment, your elder brother is curled up next to your mother and she has her arms around him and her hands over his. He is holding you and looking at your mother to be sure he is doing it right. You have a very soft little head and a very little body, so you have to be held carefully. He is very excited. We all are, actually, because you are wonderful, but your brother in particular has recently been waiting for you with a great deal of anticipation.

 

I myself had a turn holding you just after you were born, a few hours ago now. You are so small. When you're older, you won't believe it, but you are so tiny that I can put both my hands around you. You slept, mostly. I think being born must be very tiring, because you look like you're about to slip off again any minute now. You are very lovely and I think you will be very beautiful, though your mother has asked me not to say that too often, because it isn't fair to talk about you only in terms of your looks. Your mother makes a good point. You are very lovely, and I think you will be very smart. You have the tiniest little hands and the most perfect little fingernails.

 

You came pretty quickly today. Your mother and I were doing the washing up after breakfast when it all began to happen and I think it might get easier (so to speak, because it was clearly still pretty hard on your mum) because it was only about six hours from go to whoa, which is quite different from when your brother was born. Perhaps he was just a lot less keen to join us? You, however, were in a hurry and I almost think if I hadn't done anything, you would have shot out all on your own, as if by propulsion. As it was, I caught you, and bathed you and wrapped you up and everything else and now you are here and we are very, very glad to see you. We love you, Julia! Welcome to the family! I want to tell you this over and over again, and I will. I will, of course, tell you this aloud, mixed up in everything else people say to each other over the course of a life together. I will tell you right now, in fact, though you are unlikely to hear or to remember. But I will write it here too, so it will stand for all time: welcome, darling. We love you.

 

But certainly, I should leave off writing to go and be with you and the rest of our family in the real world, just across the room from where I am now. Especially since, I think, your mother needs a good sleep, so Felix and I will take care of you.

 

Very much love, and

Very sincerely,

 

Your father. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

20/3/5

 

Frakking Lee! His thoughtful gesture of furs for Julia is somewhat overshadowed by the fact he has been lying to me. He and Mrs. aren't living together, and they haven't been since their dramatic show down of 4/1. He says they are not quite broken up; she just needs to be able to come and go as she pleases. Where Kara fits into all of this I don't know. He got aggressive with me when I pushed him on that, but honestly, why the frak can't he work it out with her? It's not that hard. He just has to drop that macho protective crap and leave her alone and stop trying to get involved with her community problems and trying to solve it all with Colonial democracy and all of that other nonsense. They're not colonials and she knows better than him. At which point he said that I had no idea about what was going on in the village, and in fact was wilfully ignorant, and, also, that any marital advice was rich coming from me, since the success of my marriage more or less hinged on the fact that C. was a masochist, and writing that all down, it is actually true but I was furious and my feelings are really hurt! Why didn't he tell me?! He wasn't even going to. He just said something by accident. And why does he think he can control the frakking universe?  Frakking Lee. Honestly.  He's gone now, anyway.

 

I am too tired for this. Julia has us very occupied and I am horribly behind on the harvest and have not really slept properly for more than two weeks. Actually, I might be on a bit of short fuse. Sorry, Lee.

 

21/3/5

 

Felix and I had a melt down at dinner tonight. He said he wished Julia would shut up and not cry and I tried to explain but I just couldn't be bothered and it got very tense. C. told both of us off and we're both very ashamed. I forget that he's only three. As we speak, he is sucking on Wolfie and sulking. Poor kid. I, obviously, am writing in my own security fur and sulking. Poor me, too.

 

Hello, Julia, dear. You're not nearly as much trouble as I'm making it sound. It's just a very big change, having another person with us. But so much of it is good. Last night, you wouldn't sleep, so I held you, because your mother had simply collapsed. I took you outside and we sat all wrapped up and you cried and cried and I was very tired, and the sun started to come up and I think it made you feel better, the way it always does me, because you drifted off then, and it was lovely. You were all curled up against me and so warm and alive and I could hear each one of your tiny breaths and your little hand was tight around my finger. It was a beautiful moment, and also, I was, strangely, very touched that there was something that we obviously both like, because I could tell then that you are my daughter and I am very pleased about that. I do love you, darling girl.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

24/3/5

 

Tired. Tired. Tired. Tired. Had to push through on the harvest today because we’re frakked for everything. Felix came out with me. It must have been nice for him to have a proper run around. He's actually been very, very good considering. He told Julia he was sorry for getting mad. It was very sweet, listening to his reasoning: Goaty is alive and so is she, and obviously she is upset about something else.

 

He is writing a little story for Julia about Wolfie (who is also alive, apparently.) I can't make much sense of it myself, but it is his own project and he's very proud of it. I also don't have the heart to tell him that Wolfie is not alive, but once was. Sharply aware that he needs some actual human friends.

 

 

 

 

 

 

30/3/5

 

Julia slept right through the whole night last night. It would have been bliss had we not kept waking up in anticipation. Once or twice I actually got up to check, because while the crib is in here, I convince myself that I can't hear her breathing, even though I can. It's a bit stupid. She’s here now. She arrived safely.

 

31/3/5

 

I want to marry her. I actually do. I am struck by this, utterly, and it's almost a physical longing. I want her to actually be my actual wife. She is feeding Julia and she's just getting on with it, even though it's sore and everything else. And we have two children and I don't even know how this happened, and how or why she kept on loving me after everything. I want to marry her in case something happens. I've brought this up once or twice in the past week but she's not interested. She says doesn't see the point and says there wouldn't be any difference.

 

The point is that I love you, silly girl, and the difference is because I say so.

 

1/4/5

 

Forced to acknowledge the ridiculousness of yesterday's argument. And the accuracy of her critique. I'm just worried I can't keep a level on my actions so I want to give her a big gesture to ease the pressure to conform to decent human behaviour. I think that's true. Oh, well. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4/4/5

 

Visit from the Adamas. More political storms in the village, apparently. Don't give a flying frak because it is nothing to do with me and I absolutely refuse to care. I am proud of Mrs., though. She is tough, and they are beyond lucky to have her. I don't know what will happen, which is why I am glad that my family and I live out here and very few people ever bother us.

 

What is important is that it was all three of the Adamas. Lee a bit contrite. He feels bad about our argument, which is touching because it was my fault and I really was out of line. It occurred to me to tell him this, actually, and I might yet, because it would be the right thing, even if it is more than a little appealing to get away with having been a jerk. And we’ve had a new child party, so I’d like to have had it on a pure-ish soul, because it is a good thing to have a few traditions, even if they are very small. 

 

They're back living together, apparently. That's good, I suppose. Lee told me, last night, after the women had gone to bed, that I was right and it was hard for him not to be in charge. He's attracted to such tough women, and then, he says, he just tries to be tougher than them. He's not like me. I like being bossed around, even if I do get sulky. He says it is really hard to recognise that he has to just take direction, which he is now doing, and helping with Mrs.' practice, which is contentious. He has had to defend her, quite a lot, on both sides. I don't envy him at all for that position, but he always did love politics.  He talked for a while, actually, and I do want to know but I was only half listening because Julia was a bit restless so I had her in the crook of my arm the whole time. She did go to sleep eventually, but she was a lot less thrilled by the meet and greet than Felix was when he was little. Cottle once told me that since they can't focus that well when they're so tiny, it can all be a bit confusing, and while Felix obviously dealt with that by simply ignoring it, Julia is finding all that sensation distracting and so she cries. It's funny that they're already such different people. But at any rate, Lee and I set up a hunting date before he left this morning, so I suppose we'll talk then.

 

The other thing is, Hera has displayed some aptitude for math, and the Agathons would like me to tutor her. Will give the matter some thought, but I suppose the answer will be yes, since I can hardly refuse, given the magnitude of the debt I owe Karl.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

12/4/5

 

Hello, Julia,

 

Felix got very excited today, because he was talking away to you and you looked right at him. He is convinced you recognise him and I wonder if you do. The three of us had a walk around out front this morning, and you liked it very much. I could tell because you didn't cry at all, and a few times you looked very interested, especially at Goaty. Felix explained to you who she was in a terribly important voice, so I hope you were listening, because otherwise he'll be very disappointed.

 

You are such a lovely baby, and you are growing very fast – you're only a little more than a month old but already you are so much bigger than when you were born. I find this amazing and in some ways I find it a tiny bit sad. You grow so fast! Everything happens so fast, and there is never enough time.

 

What's amazing is that I haven't run out of love. I am full up with it and still, there is always more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

20/4/5

 

Julia has already learned to roll over! She's not even two months. She's obviously a quick study, my clever little girl. She's so lovely and soft and fuzzy. Nothing is nicer than a baby, really. Without wanting to wish us into an unsustainable workload, I would not be at all sorry to keep on having them, because she is adorable, just as Felix was when he was small. She looks a lot like me, too, but obviously much prettier.

 

The downside of this is that now she can't be left on the table or the sideboard in case she rolls herself off. Felix, we could just plop down and leave him there while we were cooking or whatever and he'd be perfectly fine, until he was six months or so. Not so for Julia. She is in a hurry to do everything.

 

21/4/5

 

Poor old Felix is a bit sad. We got very excited about Julia's rolling and he got a bit sulky so we had a talk and he's convinced we no longer love him. For all his sensible reasoning about other people's feelings, he is only little. His assumption is, of course, untrue, but I do understand that he misses being C.'s baby. Actually, I probably understand too much, and I'm embarrassed that the sensation is so familiar. I must have been such a nightmare back when he was born. 

 

Might suggest to C. that she spends a bit of time with just Felix tomorrow.  He is a bit lonely, I think.  My conjecture here is supported by the fact that Wolfie has joined us for every walk and at every meal for the last month or so. Felix talks to him and pretends he answers, and will frequently give him a bite of his breakfast. Wolfie is getting a bit smelly, and it has occurred to me to worry about Felix in terms of seeing things that aren't there. 

 

I think it is innocent, though, especially since all Wolfie appears to be saying is “please give me some buttery cornmeal with pumpkin in it.” This is Felix's favourite breakfast, so it's probably just normal make-believe rather than actual delusions.

 

22/4/5

 

Horrible. Horrible. Horrible. It has only just occurred to me that I am a horrible womanizer and everything else and now I have a daughter and I don't know what the frak I'm supposed to do! I am alone with Julia asleep in my other arm, and I don't know what to do! I do know how to care for a baby but I don't know what to teach a girl, other than to beware of awful men like her father. She is asleep and sucking on her hand and so trusting and she has no idea who I am and how wrong that is.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

26/4/5

 

Been busy, so had not written this, but C. rolled her eyes at me over my daddy daughter worries. In fact, she told me off for being sexist. At the time I was very indignant, but actually, she is right. Julia is a person more than she is a girl.

 

She is a person, too. Her personality is so distinct from Felix's already, and I think I thought they would be the same because I didn't really realize that babies would vary so much. She is much more sceptical than Felix was. She often looks like she is evaluating things and making decisions and very little escapes her notice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

28/4/5

 

Running out of paper! I am going to have to figure out how to make it because I know I will be lost without it, whatever minor efforts I make to give up my part-time career as diarist. There is no other reason, really. And here I am, wasting paper by worrying that I'm running out of paper, and it is ridiculous. It wouldn't even matter if I could just smoke. God, I miss smoking. I wonder if that ever goes away? I don't miss not being able to smell. Julia smells lovely, and so did Felix. Unless she needs to be changed, of course. Thank god we kept all those diapers. But all morning I’ve just wanted to rip open a fresh pack and smoke myself to death and I really think it was brought on by worrying about paper. That is so ridiculous I can't even believe it. Also, it’s possible that writing about how much I want to smoke is not helping. I wonder if Felix would mind if I had a suck on Wolfie, even if he is stinky? Because I am perilously close to getting very, very stoned just to smoke something. It's not the same, though. We have it in a pipe, not a tube. The tube is essential. I wonder if Cottle had any of his stash left over when he died?

 

29/4/5

 

He used to love baths, when he was really little, Felix. But my clever wife solved the problem by putting Wolfie in the tub WITH Felix. And then Felix got all excited about giving Wolfie a bath, and he forgot that he doesn't like them any more, and Wolfie got clean, which he desperately needed. Two birds with one stone! The hard part was convincing Felix that Wolfie needed to dry outside on the line, and I very much hope he will be dry by bedtime, because I certainly do not want to fight that battle. C. expressed the same and we had a brief laugh, en route to other tasks.

 

This was really the first moment we'd had since Julia was born that we were two adults together. Funny. I forget. I think I forgot that I was even here. Parts of that are actually quite pleasant, but other parts make me miss her. We sleep together but we really just fall into bed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4/5/5

 

Felix asked quite a good question today. I forget the exact words but it was something along the lines of what is the difference between girls and boys? I was shovelling compost at the time so my response was brief and strictly biological but I have since been thinking about it and have realised that Felix has inadvertently (or perhaps advertantly – who can say?) stumbled upon the same anxieties I myself have.

 

In terms of discussing it with Felix, this is not a subject with which I am terribly well versed. My knowledge of feminism, for example, aside from obvious dialectical analysis, pertains to one or two major theorists from whom I had memorised a few of the more political passages, during college when I discovered that feminists were women who tended to refuse to have sex with me (though not always, and, in fact, the ones who were keen were keener.) College was a long time ago, though. What is the difference? Besides the obvious, I mean.

 

5/5/5

 

In the end, I decided to say that nobody was exactly sure, and told him to think about it. We have since been talking. C. said a few words at dinner, when Felix said that maybe cooking was the difference. I think my academic approach amuses her, which is a bit bitchy, but I suspect I would probably be just the same if I were in her position. I can cook, after all. Nowhere near as well as C., but I can do it. I suppose, more than anything that she is on house duties because Julia is on the tit and it just makes sense. We did go back and forth when Felix was younger, and quite frankly, I love being at home with the kids, but Felix’s question really illustrated something. C. on kitchen tends to be our default, and whatever the skill sets or milk-making abilities, there is a possibility for such an arrangement to tell us something about gender, or gendered roles. Whether this is a problem or not, I don't know. I reminded him (and myself) about Mrs. A, though, and that made him think. I'd like to take him down to talk to her, actually, and I probably will, once it can be arranged.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

10/5/5

 

Oh, god, what a fantastic day yesterday. Nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. It just went easy and routine and the kids were beautiful and they both went to bed when they were put there and then C. and I had a smoke together and goofed off and had a few chaste but very sexy kisses. That's all. I think I like it better than drinking. I'm certainly less of an asshole when stoned than when drunk.

 

C. says breastfeeding is easier this time around. Felix still working on the problem on gender. Julia now smiling like a little angel. I have a wonderful wife and we have wonderful children. I give thanks, to whatever or whoever deserves it. Honestly. Thanks. In return, I promise to remember that they are wonderful.

 

Also, she said she would marry me now, but she might have just been stoned, and anyway, I don't care any more. We are married already. We both know that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

17/5/5

 

Met with Hera and parents today. I can see what they mean. She is certainly very quick on the mathematical uptake for such a young girl. Sharon says she is getting to the end of her own knowledge, which is very surprising. I would have thought that she'd be better at it than me, given that she is a Cylon, but she says not. Good enough, she says, but not a genius. Certain intuitive leaps are lacking for her, she says, and though one of the sixes would probably pick up the slack, she knows C. and I, and given the climate in the village right now, she prefers someone she knows (even if it's not someone she especially likes, I suppose.) We're still negotiating about the tutoring. I do not like leaving C. and kids at all, especially with Julia so tiny, but four hours each way is a bit much to ask of Hera, and so is leaving her parents just to study, even if Felix especially would happily have her as a houseguest. One possibility is my coming down one day each week and staying over, but I'll have to talk it over with C.

 

Thinking about it now, I'm very, very tempted to refuse wholesale. It is tangibly turbulent down here and I'm not happy about having Felix with me, however much I wanted him to talk with Mrs. A. They are well enough but very tense, and Mrs. has been threatened a few times, I found out from Lee. I barely saw her. She was in at breakfast, and once just before dinner, but otherwise she was out.

 

I wish I'd followed my instinct to stay out of it completely. I'm implicated now, too. I'll be implicated again, with Hera, even though it is only math. Even though all of it is only knowledge. People are so resistant to it and I've only ever tangentially understood that. What I now realize is that one just has to remain conscious of what one does with it, but though Lee agrees, nobody else can even be told because that's just more knowledge and the reaction will be the same. We shouldn't be here. I saw Rachel across the square today and my stomach is still in knots. Felix blissfully unaware. He is being a bit bossy with Kara, though. He's a big brother now, of course, and everybody has to know all about it. Lee and I had to laugh when we heard Felix telling Kara. It's nice to see him, actually, even if he was laughing because he thought bossy Felix sounded like me. Our hunting date was to be in a few days but I doubt we'll manage it, as too much is going on for them. He says things between them have been tabled because of the other problems, which he believes is to the good. I am inclined to agree about that, if not about the broader situation.

 

I don't like this at all, actually. I'm trying not to think this but it feels like war, and I wholeheartedly regret my involvement on every level. I'm definitely tired enough but I can't sleep. All I can do to console myself is to resolve to get my son out of here at first light. 

 

 

18/5/5

 

Lee is wrong. He is one hundred percent wrong and I don't care what C. says. He is wrong, wrong, wrong, and there can be no argument. He wanted me to take Kara out of the village, and I have, obviously, but he’s essentially just done to her what his father did to him. I couldn’t let him do that without saying something. I did and it was heated and unpleasant and some very un-gracious words were exchanged. But I won't feel sorry because he was and remains utterly, utterly wrong.

 

Of course I took her, and of course I would, every time, because she is Lee and Mrs.’ daughter and therefore she may as well already be my family, and because she is an innocent child, and she has to be protected. Of course I took her. But I still don’t think Lee was right. This is ~~Faith’s~~ Mrs. battle, and of course he should support her totally, but not at the expense of his child’s safety. If she has to fight, then he has to be with Kara. C. disagrees. She thinks he did, and is doing, the right thing, and even if the Galactic Hero theorem bears her out, he is wrong. He shouldn’t have sent Kara away, or, really, he should have come with her. Or they simply shouldn’t fight at all. Nothing matters that much. People shouldn't even be fighting about it at all. It's just frakking politics and none of it matters. They should all just move away, out here somewhere and frakking forget about it. Leave them to their mess.

 

I think C. and I will probably fight about this ourselves. We were clearly about to but there were three children all needing attention and feeding and changes and everything else and we had to shelve the conversation and get on with it. But it’s utterly beyond me how her position could have changed so totally, unless she just wants a Cause, and any one will do. What she told me it is that it is a good fight, and that she was proud to help, but there is no good fight. Especially not when it affects children. 

 

And it has done. Kara was fine to begin with, but since bedtime rolled around, she has got very upset and she wants her parents. Obviously. She’s never been apart from them, and she’s not stupid, even if she is little. She can feel the tension down at home. I don’t know what to tell her, and I don’t even know when she’ll see her parents again. Lee was not terribly specific and then we started fighting anyway. The only consolation so far has been baby Julia, whom Kara is deeply in love with, so C. has them both in her arms, as we speak, and Kara is letting Julia squeeze her fingers. Felix says Wolfie thinks this is a bit unfair, so I’ve got him (Felix, not Wolfie) on my lap and he is working on his story. He wants my help, and I must give it, so I will close here. With the incidental thought that tonight looks like it might end up another late one. And also, that I’m glad I have MY priorities in the right order. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

21/5/5

 

Kara is sweet and adorably headstrong and absolutely charming, but she adds to our combined workload and we have been very busy. Not much to say about that besides what I have already written.

 

I did have something to write, though:  C. got me, again. It’s not even that I love her. It’s that I’m amazed by how much she cares, and how much thought she puts into that care. I’m terrified he’ll die, of course. Lee. Whom I love like a brother, and who, somewhere, is something of a second chance at the brother I let go. And that’s why I went off at him and said all those things, some of which were just plain nasty, however I wrote about them the other day. Her too, Mrs. It’s more complicated with her, though, because I taught her, and I feel responsible. And I have a crush on her, so I can’t presume and fight with and dictate to her the way I do with Lee.

 

It’s like C. has four children (counting Kara.) Honestly. She didn’t have to say very much, she just came and put her arms around me when I’d just put down the firewood and was leaning against the stove to get my breath back, and she said one or two things to the above effect and I buried myself against her and cried.

 

22/5/5

 

There’s been no word and I feel like crying again. God promised me. It promised me that from then on my life would be less eventful. When even god’s emissaries lie, one knows that all of humanity is just frakking frakked.

 

 

 

 

 

 

26/5/5

 

F. & K. fighting all day. I don’t know what started it and I don’t care, because they have not let up since late morning. C. and I have had to separate them a few times and now I am writing for the sole purpose of stopping myself from clipping one or both of them around the ear. Don’t do it, Gaius! One of them isn’t even yours and I’m sure that’s against some kind of Moral Court of Eternity standard. Besides, hitting children is just plain rotten and you know that better than anyone. Deep, written breaths please.

 

At least sweet little Julia is causing no trouble. Her smiles are a delight to behold, as they are very selective. She is sleeping very well, too.

 

27/5/5

 

I read yesterday’s entry, and I don’t even believe it. Surely I would have learned by now. One doesn’t write things that start with “at least” unless one wishes to tempt the frakking fates. Julia has got a new trick, which is banging. Whatever she's got, she wants to hit it against something else. Oh, the insanity! She has been doing this for about three hours now, and a couple of times I've taken the thing off her, which makes her cry. And then I feel bad, so I give it back and then she starts banging it again. Not sure what to do. C. and I are both agreed that Julia wanting to make noise is probably a good sign, in that it's all thinking and learning and so forth, especially since she's not even quite three months, but it is really, really unbelievably annoying. So annoying. She's doing it right now and I can barely concentrate. And now C. has picked her up and she’s bawling.

 

I probably shouldn't be so annoyed at my own daughter. It is good for her brain and ~~at least~~ it must be tiring her out. And F. and K. have settled down and C. says the issue is coming from Felix being jealous and Kara missing her parents, and that is frakking fair enough because I do too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

30/5/5

 

I have given the matter a great deal of thought and I have decided that the only thing that will make me feel better is a good frakking frak. I haven’t even had time for a wank and I need to unload a few gallons of pure, salty frustration. Plan to bring it up with the wife tonight.

 

Where the frak are you, Lee?

 

31/5/5

 

Why is she bringing this up now?!?  As if I didn't have enough to worry about! At any rate, I would like to register my absolute disdain for the so called “rhythm method”. It didn't even occur to me that C. was serious when she started keeping the “calendar” shortly after her woman’s bits came back on after Felix was born, but she was, and she has worked it all out in the interim and apparently been keeping it in reserve. The upshot is that I am now restricted to fourteen days a month! Fourteen days! What does she think I am? A camel?

 

AND six of those days she has her bits (I don't mind, but she does.) She won't go back to withdrawl either –it’s not one hundred percent (though neither is the frakking method, actual frakking science demands that I point out) and besides, she says she's sick of washing it out of our things. Tempted to re-invent the pill.

 

1/6/5

 

Small fight with the wife last night regarding “rhythm method”. At the time she first brought it up I was too stunned to speak much but last night I couldn’t help myself. She's still mad at me. I'll admit whined pretty unbecomingly, but it really is a bit unfair. Eight days! That's not enough days! What if we have visitors?  She can’t even get pregnant while she’s breastfeeding anyway, but she says that that’s not always true. She’s just had her bits this month, apparently, so there’s a good chance that it’s all back to normal, even if they were light and only for two days.

 

She also says she's not just sick of washing cum out of our things, she's sick of washing things, period. So I said I would do some more of the laundry and she said that was impractical, because Julia is still on the tit, and we can’t even start weaning for about three more months. So I said, does that mean we aren't having any more? And she said not right now, but maybe in a couple of years. And I said that it wasn't fair for her to make a decision like that without me, and she asked me what happened to all my loquacious pro-choice social justice rhetoric and I said it was different, and besides, that was a low blow, considering everything that was going on, and then she admitted that it was and I said, thank you, and then I leaned over to kiss her because I thought I had won and she put her hand!! between her mouth and mine!! and said that, even so!! if I really felt that way then I could have them myself!! So of course I said that was ridiculous, and then she said, with hand gestures, that pushing out a child was like pushing a melon through a hole the size of a cubit, not to mention the backache and the swelling and the breastfeeding and everything else besides, and she wanted a frakking break. It was a fair point, really. I had to let it go anyway because it was getting heated and I certainly did not to wake up the brood after having finally gotten them to sleep. But she's my wife and I want to have sex with her! More often than eight days out of the month!

 

5/6/5

 

NB:  Nobody gets pregnant from oral sex.

 

Also, trim beard.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

8/6/5

 

Worried, worried, worried about Lee and Mrs.  Kara has settled down but I want more than anything to ride down and check but I can't leave them. Frakking politics! Why did I teach her anything? I should have just said no and told everybody to frak off. I don't know what to do about Hera, either. C. is in favour of the tutoring in general and says she would be willing to let me go one night once Julia has started weaning, once she's down to one or two feeds, but that's a few months off and anything could happen in that time. I keep imagining that I'll ride down and everything is on fire and not because Lee and I are drunk. I worry that somebody will kill Mrs. because of what I taught her, and it's more likely to be her own people, according to Lee. We shouldn't have come. We should have flown ourselves into the sun with our ships. I know now that that's what we should have done. At the very least it would have stopped me from starting another war.

 

9/6/5

 

C. is really very smart. I knew this already, obviously, but I'm so impressed by what she said last night when I was talking to her while she was cooking and I had Julia in the tub. She wasn't even paying full attention, and she said that the problem was that actions got all mixed up with beliefs. Really, it's the same thing she says every time, but it's only now that I start to understand how deeply intelligent it really is. An action is just an action and it doesn't have to be representative of anything. Everything is itself and it makes sense to itself. It's the same thing she told me and the same thing I learned myself. That's the secret, really. To view everything as totally separate, even as it is totally connected.

 

This is good stuff to know. I don't want to be involved, not even at all, and I was fighting with this even as I was out in the fruit trees, pruning and keeping an eye on F. & K. But I think the answer is more knowledge, not less. As if we have to teach each other good knowledge about how to have knowledge. As if we have to have the proper technology to use technology. I feel like I have to tell everybody about this: we have to learn how to think, not what to think!

 

She also told me to rein in my ego. I didn't start a war. She was a bit annoyed about that, actually. I didn't notice at the time because I was too busy thinking about what she'd said about actions, but reflecting on it now, she was, and I understand. I didn't start a war and neither can I stop it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

15/6/5

 

Caught myself today. I had already started grieving for Lee. He's not going to die, because he is my friend and the last thing that I say to him will not be awful. The last memory I have of my friend Lee will not be his shoving his child at me and telling me to frak off after my stinging critique of his parenting and worth as a human being. How much it means that he trusted me even then. And that is why he will not die, until he is very old. Because god recognises meaning, and so do I. This will not be his epitaph.

 

It came on because I swear I smelled smoke yesterday. And that's as much as I can write about it because I'm a superstitious idiot and I'm afraid that whatever I write will come true. EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE. Everything will be fine.

 


	6. Presidential Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gaius discovers White Guilt and adds it to his Patriarchal Guilt tapestry. 
> 
> Members of colonized populations should be forewarned that Gaius is every bit as frustratingly selfish about that discovery as he is all others. Just a heads up in case you'd rather not read about it. I certainly don't blame you.

Doc,

 

I hope this gets where it is going. I know you will anyway, but please show Hera the same hospitality you've shown us. Karl and Sharon came round eventually but it took some talking. Don't frak it up.

 

I could apologise for using you and Caprica as de facto foster care, but I won't, because it's your job. You've become pretty decent in your old age, and this is the kind of thing decent people have to do. Welcome to the human race, Doctor. I won't ask you to fight again, and part of that is because I respect your stance. To be totally honest, I respect your having a stance at all, because I know it doesn't come all that naturally to you. While we're being honest, that's always pissed me off, since you're possibly the most intelligent person I've ever met, and we could use you. But it also makes me think, probably for the same reason. I don't understand your total lack of allegiances. I never have, and I never will, but I do respect it. So I am only going to ask you to do this one thing. Please take care of our children, until we can be with them again. Don't take it out on Caprica, either. My money is on the fact that she'll be doing the lion's share of the work anyway, and I'm told by sources who shall remain nameless that she is wholly on board. You should also know that I trust your paternal instincts completely, and that's another thing that you shouldn't frak up. We have no choice but to trust you, and I hope you understand how serious that is.

 

I will apologise for whatever I said to you when we last spoke. I don't remember what it was. Too much was happening. Thank you for taking care of my daughter, is what I should have said. Please tell her that we love her very much and that we are counting the days until we can be together. And that we miss her.

 

Love,

Lee.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lee,

 

Frak you to hell, and I mean that in all seriousness. Your communiqué is, as you are, dictatorial and imperious and you can shove it up your righteous, patriotic ass. I will also ask you to consider what you think you are being patriotic to, especially given the complete lack of any nation state for you to be affiliated with. There is a very good reason I tend not to have a stance in such matters – because allegiances are ephemeral, and entropy tends to render them all nonsensical before long. Besides, I do have them, and they are to my family and (I might tentatively add) my friends. I see no reason to extend my “patriotism” beyond this.  I will never kill another living thing that I do not plan to eat or wear, and I do not wish to be in a situation, or even a manner of thinking, where I might be required to, or will accidentally do this. My conscience can't take much more, I'm afraid. So, where fighting is concerned, you will indeed be without me. I thank you for your understanding in this matter.

 

Kara is fine. She misses you very much, and I think you should be aware of how young she is. It won't take her forever to forget you. Keep that in mind. You don't want to be a stranger to her. She cries less already. She and Felix have worked out how to live together. From being very good friends, they went through a little adjustment and now it seems alright. She's quite the stubborn little miss, but I find that less than surprising, considering who her parents are. And we love having her, so no need to worry on that count. Also, she is slightly less fussy at the dinner table than is F., so she is a good influence, as her father is on yours truly.

 

The unpleasantness of the last time we spoke was my fault, not yours, and so I apologise. We'll talk when we meet again. You should know, if we're assigning jobs (and you started it) that ensuring that this happens is YOUR job, and also that hearing from you has eased a great deal of anxiety on my part.

 

Please take care of yourself, Lee, and our regards to your source. Tell her that she is the best pupil that I have ever had, because she is. I could not be prouder of her, and it's difficult to tell her things like that. I trust you will do better.

 

Very sincerely,

Dr. Gaius Baltar 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Doc,

 

Please don't start with me again about Kara. Not being with her is hard enough. The only consolation is that I know I made the right decision.

 

I'm going to ask you one more thing, though. I'm going to ask you to think about Julia. I have a strong memory of a conversation we had, where you said, firstly, that some of the righteousness of fighting came from the righteousness of me – that it was partly the way I thought about it. Respectfully disagreed, Doc, but I still think about it. I also think about what you said about the larger controversy. I agree with your assessment as regards bifurcation, and that's one of the reasons that being here is important to me. I can't accept those things for any people, not when I have the power to affect it, and I never could. What impressed me, though, is the way you could think it out like that, the way you could see what was happening, even if you kept saying you didn't. So I'm going to ask you to apply that thinking to our situation.

 

I know you can, and, in fact, I think you probably already are, though you're likely to be keeping it to yourself. I don't know if I ever told you that I read your prison notes. Did I tell you? I feel like I told you at the time, but maybe not. It might have been one of the reasons I wanted to defend you in court, because in a way, it made me realise why we had a judicial system. Because, even if I hated you, those actions that repulsed me weren't the whole of who any person was – that your mind was good, even if your soul was rotten, which I thought it was. I've since changed my mind, but that's partly because you changed yours.  I might never have said it, but at the time I agreed with the Chief. I thought the book was equal parts accuracy and bullshit, but the b.s. was the kind of bullshit that showed up only because of its clear proximity to the truth. Those were good ideas, and we needed them. We're going need them now. I think you've been trying to say this when we've been talking. That the real trick is ideas for managing ideas. I only have a B.A., rather than two Ph.Ds, though, so I'll need you to explain this for the class.

 

Love,

Lee

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lee,

 

One is a Ph.D. The other degree is an M.D. Also, a docK is a platform for loading and unloading goods, and not a proper title for a human person. The word you're looking for is “Doctor”. 

 

You should be familiar with the basic theoretical structure of 'My Triumphs, My Mistakes', even with a B.A. Dialectical analysis is, as far as I recall, freshman material. But allow me to read your mind: my book's proximity to any kind of truth exists only if we do not make existential choices to resist being bifurcated as we are asked to be. It's not hard to work out your side of the argument. You're an individualist, possibly because you are the “hero” type. Heroes tend to believe that everyone can be as good as they are. (We can't. My sincere apologies.) Men and women aren't merely variables, I believe you would say. Well, science says they are. Not to mention the fact that you are a well bred, firmly middle-class person, whose destiny was pre-written to include greatness. I recommend that you give poverty and obscurity a try some time. 

 

Our circumstances have, of course, changed to exclude such conditions as wealth, though we do own land by living on it. But perhaps this is neither here nor there. I have, as you correctly assert, changed my mind on the full acceptance that science should dictate what I am. To be scrupulously honest, I didn't think about it all that much until I was forced to. I never had much of a sense of civic duty, but the only thing that has really changed is that now I know why. I have some duty, where I can see it can be well, and uncomplicatedly applied, and that is on a very small scale. Please do not ask me to make policy for anyone other than myself. I am an awful human being, Lee. You know that, or at least you used to. I am grateful that you have changed your mind enough to allow us to be friends, but the rest of the world hasn't, and they shouldn't. My soul IS rotten, and my intellect, such as it is, is unleavened by compassion.

 

Be well. No heroism, please.

 

Regards,

Dr. Gaius Baltar

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Doc,

 

The world's smallest violin is playing just for you, Professor. Your compassion is just fine. It always  was. Your problem was being selfish and too lazy to use it, not being “awful”, which is an unnecessary conflation and in itself a lazy interpretation of the text, and I do remember that from college (I had a 4.0, just so you know, and a double major. ) The two things are completely different, and it's only through knowing you that I come to understand that I wasn't thinking hard enough when I thought they were the same. I might not always agree with you, but, unless you're talking about my family, the best quality that you have is that you never think you are right about the rest of the world. You really can think, my friend. You just don't, most of the time.

 

I think, all the time, about my term as interim president, and it's clearer and clearer to me that while I respected Laura Roslin to the fullest possible extent, her plans for humanity bordered on the fascist, even if she never intended them that way. That's probably what we needed then and there. In fact, it was what we needed then and there. We never would have survived without it. But that's not who I want to be and that's not the world I want to raise my daughter in, and I Goddsdamn hope it's not the world you want for yours. Some things are more important than survival, and there comes a time in everybody's life when they have to ask themselves what they have to do to deserve it. Call me a self righteous patriot if you want (and aren't already.) But that's why I'm here with the woman I love and admire and that's why I'm not going to stop asking you to think about it. This isn't about us being friends. This is about humanity.

 

Love,

Lee

 

PS: Could you please put in a few words about my daughter? Your self loathing is fun and all, but she's my kid.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Mr. President,

 

Oh, how I have missed that stirring oratory! You talk a good game, Captain Apollo. I can almost hear the trumpets sounding! You make me want to throw my hand over my heart and follow you into war. Again, I should say.

 

Our non-blood charges are both well. Please tell Karl and Sharon that Hera is progressing splendidly, and, if you would be so kind, pass the enclosed letter on to them, as it is from her (she didn’t want to give it to Karl when he was here because it is a surprise. I haven’t read it, but as fancies go, it is fairly harmlessly obliged, so I trust you will pass it along.) As for your girl, Caprica has been teaching her some rudimentary baking. She's much too tiny to really being doing anything, but as you perhaps recall (assuming you can remember that far back), she loves to be in the thick of things and likes to feel that she is participating in what grown-ups do. Do you ever wonder that we've forced them to grow up too fast? Because I do, sometimes. I wonder this about my own children, too. You missed this one, I think, but I had another dramatic frak out shortly before Julia was born, over my confrontation with Rachel. Doubtless, you know what she thinks of me, and doubtless, as my former legal advocate, you will know why. I managed it a lot better than I managed the last one, actually. At least I think I did. I tried to keep my angsting till after hours, and for the most part I was successful, but Felix saw me, once. It's as if everything from before is a cancer, and it affects my children even now. Felix has never been quite the same with me since then, and Julia, while she has seen nothing like that from me, is bound to be similarly scarred by her father being who he is. This is an issue that I suspect is more pressing than the broader politic. I am awful, and your kindness does not change any of it. But some of this awfulness, in my own assessment of myself, is mediated by how much I am able to love Kara on your behalf. I really do, Lee. She's a beautiful child.

 

Look, you know my feelings, and you know I refuse to participate any more, at any level, in the affairs of the broader community. I can't do it, I don't know how, and everything I try to do is wrong. I have found that when I contribute ideas to the world, however innocently (though the connotations of that word perhaps bear some examining) it is done, they run away from me with a speed that I cannot understand. You told me once that everything I did, I did for my own political power, but you know now that it was never done for that, if only because, as you quite rightly point out, I never did think that hard. I could never  - and still can't - understand the way that something I barely cared about could become so important to so many people so fast, and in consequence I am now far more careful with my care. Simply put, I care for Caprica, for Felix and Julia, and for you and yours. I would, now, extend that to include Hera and perhaps her family, but that is where it ends. That's about as active and selfless as I am able to be, and even that is not done terribly well. Do not ask any more from me. Please.

 

Fond regards,

Dr. Gaius Baltar

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gaius,

 

I didn't miss it. Caprica had filled me in last time I was there. I had my own things going on, so we never talked about it, but I knew.  There is one thing that I wanted to say to you and never did, and it's this: don't hate yourself for finding it difficult to deal with. I know that it's hard to mediate, but you've got to know that. I knew you on Galactica, and it is a change to the good. Feeling guilty is nobody's friend, but at the same time, it has to be better than not knowing you've done anything wrong. That way be monsters. You can't change it, so the only answer is to deal with it and not to do it again. I firmly believe you won't, if only because you're unlikely to get another chance to participate in genocide. And, for me, a lot of these things are mediated by the fact that you never meant for anything to come of anything you did. I knew both Roslin and Tom Zarek extremely well, not to mention my father, and trust me, that's mitigating. At least it is for me. I'm looking for ethics here, not morals (thank you once again, freshman civics.) 

 

Thanks for the information about Kara. Please say all the things I've asked you to say again. In answer to your question, yes, I do wonder that. It wasn't an easy decision to send her away. I miss her every frakking day and I wish the world wasn't a place where this kind of bullshit had to happen. Sometimes I even envy you for your complete lack of interest in politics, believe it or not. If I didn't care, I could be with my daughter right now, playing with her and holding her in my arms.

 

I've already said I respect your position. In fact, I think I might even love you for it, even if it's not mine. We're just both of us who we are, I guess.

 

President Adama

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Mr. President,

 

Today, your little girl drew the enclosed. Isn't it lovely? She might actually be quite talented. I wish we had some paints or something to give her, but all we have is charcoal. I hope it hasn't smudged too much in transit. One other thing: I think she is allergic to that other plant that often grows with the chamomile (ragwort?) She has been fine on the chamomile itself, but I'm not always terribly careful when I'm picking it, and she had quite a nasty reaction to her tea the other night. She's fine now, don't worry at all, but just for the future, you might want to know. Also, Caprica has put forth that we might start toilet training, as it seems about the right time. I don't feel quite right about doing this without you, but we will. I don't feel right about any of this, Lee. Once again, I have to say that, and I'm sorry because I know it hurts you. But it seems I really do believe it, just as you really do believe I ought to join in on the making of decisions for others. Such respect as you describe is, of course, mutual, just as this aphoristic antagonism seems to be.

 

I've not wanted to write this because it is horribly pathetic, but your last letter was very touching. I don't think anybody had ever said that to me before, or at least not quite the way you wrote it, and it means a great deal. Thank you. I know now, too, that I was the wrong person to be working at the Defence Department in the first place. I didn't care about the people it was supposed to protect. I still don't. But now, I wouldn't take that job. Nor will I take the one you offer. So perhaps you're right.

 

Thank you also for distinguishing between ethics and morals. Well done. I hope you got an A in freshman civ. 

 

Sincerely,

Dr. Gaius Baltar

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Doc,

 

Shit! We should have told you about the ragwort! What an oversight! We never give her chamomile at all, actually, just to be safe. We had it checked with Rachel before the political explosion an apparently it's not life threatening, it just makes her sick until she's puked it all out, poor kid. Give her a kiss and an apology from me and rub her tummy, which will make her feel better. As for the toilet training, I know what you mean. But I also trust your judgement. Thanks for the drawing. Like her namesake, I often think she will be a real artist.

 

Also, you bet I got A's. That's how you get a 4.0. Besides, the bill was on the military, so it was my only chance, since dad would never have paid, and I'm not quite the genius you are, so no scholarships were coming my way. I never even remotely thought I'd end up being a pilot for so long. The plan was to serve the four years and get the frak out. A lot of it was mixed up, though, as you know, Issues With Daddy being what they are. And then Zack died and it was like I had to stay in the service. But you know that story. Zack used to give me constant shit about the fact that I never spoke to dad, which, back then, I didn't. They were on the same self righteous page, and there was a part of me that always felt like I had to fill that gap. Cue the violins.

 

Love,

Lee

 

PS: Sharon says, can you please stop hitting on her?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lee,

 

I've never hit on Sharon. All I've done is look. It's not my fault she's sexy.

 

As for your brother, I wonder if your history has anything to do with your need to join in to any and all noble fights that are going on around you? Just an observation. Disregard it as you like. Issues With Daddy are a rich tapestry, though, and we should not ignore their influence, even when we think we are long past them.

 

My own brother was just a small minded country boy. But, actually, I think he loved me, even if I didn't return the favour. I was never able to forgive him for agreeing with my father, and so I've often envied you your relationship with Zack, even if it was complex and unfairly cut short. Also, I have a very small violin you can borrow.

 

Why write about it, though? Why not just come? Karl and Sharon do, so why not you or Mrs. you? I'll even make you a bargain: come and see your frakking child, and I'll let you argue with me about philosophical ethics. I'll even promise not to fall asleep out of boredom, though that'll be a hard promise to keep.

 

Love,

Dr. Gaius Baltar

 

PS: Please bring my letters with you. Yes, it's both obsessive and compulsive but I'd very much like to archive them and I don't trust the security of any house in the village, let alone yours. Obviously, if you'd like to keep them, I'll understand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Doc,

 

Godsdamn, you're a motherfrakker. What kind of excuse is “it's not my fault she's sexy”? Caprica should cut off your nuts. It's the only way to stop your rampant sleaziness. I recommend you rein it in, or Helo will do her job for her. You really can't frak with Karl's wife. Sexist or not, those are the facts on the ground, and he is easily twice your size. Just so you know, Doctor.

 

My source and I are heading west in a week or so. There are some people she knows out there, a group of “medicine women” that she's keen to talk to. I understand that it's about knowledge sharing, but also about what we're going to do. Things here, as you know, are still very, very tense. It's yet to esculate into full blown violence, after that first time, but I haven't felt safe about letting her walk around the village or outskirts, after the things that have been said to her. Worse still, as I think I told you, is that Colonials are involved. Some of them agree, and some even defer to my left over authority (oh boy!) but many of them see this clean slate as a chance to move backwards. I think of those words: this has all happened before, and will happen again. Is it really going to happen again? All of it? Women being property? Even if we get out of it in the end, I can't let that happen, even if there is a genuine move amongst the New Earthers in this direction. I can't leave it to god, or to science, or whatever higher authority you might choose to trust. So I have to trust her, and go west.

 

The reason I'm telling you this is that all being well, we'll come through the farm on our way. I can barely wait to see Kara. And I'm brushing up on my philosophical ethics.

 

I love you too, man,

Lee    

 

PS: I'll admit some mild amusement here, but sure, I'll bring the letters. Do you still keep a diary?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

31/9/5

 

Someone burned down her clinic. For frak's sake. Someone burned down her clinic. Lee takes it in stride. He is insane. At least she understands how serious it is. She, at least, is rational, but he seems nothing less than exhilirated. The stupid fool is spoiling for a fight. I'm almost ready to give him one.

 

All this aside, I am extremely pleased for Kara. She is so very young, and C. and I have worried on and off that she might forget them, and then it would be hard to go back. I almost think she had, but last night, in her mother's arms, it all seemed to come back. She needs her parents. Karl and Sharon know that, which is why one of them comes every week, and I don't see why the Adamas couldn't. We'll argue about that tonight, I'm sure.

 

Oh my holy god, I am glad to see him. I thought my heart would burst.

 

1/9/5

 

Mrs. told us that out west they are still matriarchal. I'm curious about what they do with the men. It doesn't sound like they are property so much as workers, as in an ant hive. I find this a little horrible, frankly. Mrs. says it may have changed. She seems very tired of the whole thing, and I don't blame her. None of us know the right answer, least of all me. She's changed too, actually. She always was very firm in her assessments, but she has gone from her hard determinism to a sort of resigned, regretted authority. Battlescarred, I'd call her, and over and over again, she has expressed nothing less than a confusion that people can't simply leave each other alone. I know how she feels. She and C. have spent most of the day out the front with Kara and Felix, playing with them. Lee, meanwhile, has been talking a mile a minute, on many of the same subjects he has written to me on. Interestingly enough, Hera has started to join in. She really is very bright. I wonder if we could leave all decision making to her? She is a woman, after all, if only a ten year old one. Sometimes I even forget how very young she is, as Karl and Sharon have raised her very well, and she is so naturally helpful, especially with Julia.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3/10/5

 

Ideas for handling ideas. He's right, of course. That's what we need. And that's what I wanted to say. Actions do not equal values, and the experience of one state is not an excuse to assume it completely. These are philosophical and political ideas as well as emotional ones. There is bifurcation and there is individualism and then there is the knowledge that both of these states necessarily affect each other, and mediate each other. We are variables, which means equally that our actions matter and do not matter. Entropy be damned!  We have to talk and discuss and make a series of individual decisions rather than trying to make great broad rules. We can even say the same about forming roles and rules and categories for men and women and everybody else who does not fit either description exactly, at all, without recourse to politics. It would be a lengthy – nay, continuous – process, which would demand full consciousness at every moment. 

 

Which is precisely why I would rather curl up into a little ball and die. I don't agree with Lee about me. Not at all. Besides, my lack of consciousness has been hard won and I like it. Moments when I forget myself are like true experiences of heaven. Also, the part he hasn't figured out yet is that the damage is already done. I have said this several times but he refuses to admit it. Because, of course, he needs to save the frakking world. 

 

4/10/5

 

I don't agree with C. either. Since we have responsible adult guests, we were allowed a little extra time in bed this morning, and while I might (foolishly) have thought it might be used in a productive fashion, she instead used it to lengthily assert her agreement with Lee. Some of the things she said to me during my last Marathon of Guilt came out again, and one of them, that she won't let go of, is pissing me off beyond repair.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

6/10/5

 

Dear god, or whomever,

 

What the frak is this? Really. I'm not going anywhere that is away from my children and I don't understand why my wife wants me to. Frak off, alright? I've only just learned how to mediate atonement and fatherhood and that balance is still perilously uneasy. Don't give me another task or the whole thing will fall over.

 

So say we all.

 

7/10/5

 

I feel better now that I know C. is a little bit jealous. It all got floated yesterday, this idea of Lee and I changing places for the trip west. Everybody knows what I think, yet here they all are using me as a frakking pawn in a political battle I have no interest in. But for some incredibly stupid reason, it made me feel considerably better when C. finally admitted that she didn't want me to be alone for that long with Mrs. A., especially if we were working together. I've always known she had a jealous streak, but she's always denied it utterly, my transparent little liar. She told me the truth this morning. My crush on Mrs. makes her jealous, or, at least, she says it would if it were consummated. She said it was more or less inevitable that we'd sleep together if we went away, and she didn't want me to. I did say that that was a little presumptuous as regarding Mrs. A., but she says that I underestimate my appeal, and that, now that we've “bonded” (her word) she thought Mrs. probably would. I said I assumed she was faithful to Lee, but actually, it's probably not as cut and dry as all that. I also said that I could never be accused of underestimating my own appeal, which is true. It's sweet that she's jealous, though. And I like very much that she cares more about me than she cares about the holy battle for gender equity.

 

What she wanted to hear, obviously, was that I wouldn't sleep with her, so I told her that. I even think it is true. If we went away together, I'd really want to, because I've always wanted to, but C. is my wife, and I love her, and I've already lost her too many times to test those boundaries any more than I already have, even if sex and love are not the same. If I'm really honest with myself, I wouldn't like it if she slept with anyone else either, though that possibility has seldom occurred to me, except when the imagined scenario has included me also. It doesn't matter anyway, though, because I'm not going.

 

8/10/5

 

My refusal now makes me feel guilty. I want to give Lee that time with his daughter, and Mrs. can't go alone. But the answer is for neither of them to go. I'm not going to feel guilty. It's their own problem. I've made my position more than clear.

 

9/10/5

 

Today, as I was straining curds in the shed, Hera wandered in and told me that she thinks I should go. She's obviously been thinking about it all. It was a strange moment, but not entirely unpleasant. She thinks I would be good at dealing with a completely different culture without judging them. How she has managed to make this assessment, I do not know, but it was touching, if perhaps not entirely correct. I think I am quite judgemental, in some ways, though it's certainly true I have learned to be less so. Hera, for reasons unknown, respects me. As incomprehensible as that is, it's one hundred percent mutual. I am impressed by her work and I think she has the potential to be quite genuinely brilliant.

 

This probably means I should listen to her. Probably, though. Not definitely. She's only ten.

 

10/10/5

 

We started weaning a month ago, and it's going about the same as it went with Felix. This would seem to be the only thing that Julia the Intrepid is hesitant to leap into. Today, though, she ate all of her mashed broccoli, while I was feeding her, and even smiled when she was done. I was very proud. My little girl is only seven months old, and they all want me to leave her. Lee doesn't wholly trust me with his wife, but the chance for one of the parents to stay with Kara matters to both of them, and besides, he trusts his wife with me. Mrs. A. thinks I would be the best person to come, if only for the medical knowledge. But Julia can't even speak yet. She can enter into a spirited exchange of gurgles, but no actual words. What if she were to say her first words while I am gone? What if I were to die in transit, and miss her first steps or tooth any other firsts? I'm not quite as afraid to die as I once was – presumably because, biologically speaking, I have already passed on my genes and evolution no longer needs me. But I am afraid to miss anything of her, or Felix, who, each day, gets a little older and a little more grown up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

13/10/5

 

I needn't have been so dictatorial with C. and Lee about the farm. C. is more than capable, really, even if Lee is better at directing work than he is at doing it. That isn't fair. He works well, and he always has. And as for C. whatever she's weak on, she's certainly smart enough to figure out. I'm only being like this because the last thing I want to do is leave her. She probably knows that but it might go better if I tell her. I have no idea how to. As much as I love her – and really, it is very, very much – I'm still not the world's foremost champion at proper honesty. In fact I wish I were an animal, because I would burrow into the ground and never come out. Tomorrow is my last night in my burrow. Tonight I plan to slide repeatedly into hers. I sincerely hope it is one of our safe days. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

17/10/5

 

The good thing about the paper I got from the village is that it is very light. I am not fond of carrying a pack. She has asked me why I wanted to write and I wasn't quite sure how to explain. In the end, I simply said that I thought it made me better. This seemed to satisfy her, so I suppose on some level it must be true. We have been walking for three days and have met nobody, bar some scary animals which we have cautiously avoided, and have eaten nothing but dried meat. I have never been out this far before, so I hope her sense of direction does not fail us.

 

Walking behind her lovely, bouncy ass is some consolation, but I miss my wife. It's funny how feelings change. My attraction to Mrs. A. comes from the fact that she is so indifferent to me outside of her interest in my knowledge. And often I think that so much of my attraction to C. comes from the complete knowledge that she understands everything about me, and right now, away from home, that understanding is what I want.

 

Interesting that in both cases, attraction is driven by their relation to me. Too tired to examine that right now, frankly.

 

18/10/5

 

It is astronomically beautiful out here. Today we came to a wide, low river plain. There is no way to cross the river but to swim, and so tomorrow, we will. There were birds tonight, at dusk, the likes of which I had never seen. They were long and thin, like herons, but lurid pink and a wingspan that I would estimate at more than five feet. They were exquisite. I would have loved a proper look at them but they weren't at all impressed by my proximity when I wandered down. They took off, and soared, which was beautiful enough. 

 

She has just told me that there is a creature in the river that could eat us whole. She seems completely unfazed by this knowledge. I, however, am just the tiniest bit fazed.

 

19/10/5

 

My god, I miss speech. It's not because Mrs. A. can't talk, it's more because she doesn't. I actually don't know how big her vocabulary is, or how much she can manage. Her accent is very thick, though often times, there's a sound that is much more like Lee's than her own. That makes sense, as most of her speech would have been learned from him. But she is mostly silent, unless there is something she needs to tell me. Even then, she tends to use non-verbal cues when she can. Which is fair enough, really, because that's her first language. 

 

There is some pleasure in the stillness, though, even if it is difficult for me. I have no idea what she is thinking, but I'm aware she'll tell me if I need to know. There's some safety in that. She does, actually, make me feel safe. And I'm glad to be at the end of this day, too. Walking in wet clothes might actually be my least favourite thing, but at least nothing ate us. I saw the thing she was talking about, though, and I'll use Lee's word: motherfrakker.

 

 

 

25/10/5

 

This morning we woke up spooning. I have no idea how that happened. We sleep close for safety and I assume that my sleeping self thought she was C.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

28/10/5

 

Last night, she said, “you think we are strange.” I was so surprised that she'd spoken that I choked on my venison. I didn't know what she meant until she cupped her breasts. Women. I think women are strange. It’s possible I do. I hoped it was the start of a conversation, but it wasn't.

 

Wanted to write about that, but too tired. Today was far, far too long, and furthermore, it was hot. She says we should get there tomorrow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

30/10/5

 

I've had to hide out to write, as bringing out my pen invited a great deal of suspicion. But it bears writing about, if only so I can accurately recall it for Felix. He will doubtless find it interesting.

 

So: their village is completely different from ours, or the one nearest us. They use tents made of skins, since there aren't huge amounts of timber in the immediate region. Their style of dress is not wholly different, though there are no colonials, so far fewer college shirts and fleet uniforms are in the offing. The major difference is that the women also wear their chests bare. It was quite a shock at first (though not the unpleasant kind, except for the fact that I didn't know where to look.) There is no speech (which so far has rendered me more than useless.) But there is music, or at least drums and singing sounds. I also had to drink some blood. Actually, the less written about that part of it, the better, because it was extremely difficult for me not to throw it up, and it was a situation in which I was absolutely unable to refuse it. Mrs. A has been in one of the tents for some time, only emerging periodically, but I haven't been allowed in yet. Apparently it's such a breach of protocol having a man in the circle that it'll take a little time. She and I sleep in a tent together, on the ground, but without furs. We are clearly very close to sea level as it is considerably hotter here than at home. She is bare chested too and wears very little else. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't somewhat appealing, lying next to her like that, but she regards my accidental but appreciative gaze with a total lack of interest. That's actually quite sexy, really, but it's also a sure sign that nothing's going to happen. I know this because Lee once told me, when he was drunk, that when she wants it, he's never left in any doubt. He stopped talking after that, because he's a gentleman, but it was revealing, and he blushed. I'd like to know more. Is it strange that I'm interested in Lee's sexual habits? He's such a Stand Up Fellow that it's hard to imagine him having sex at all. At any rate, though, I suspect that she's stopped thinking of me as having sex parts. As if I were simply a philosophical man. Perhaps that's what she meant when she said that I thought women were strange. That I had missed the part about us all being people. Well, I'm just a person to her now. I don't entirely hate that, and I'm sure it's good for my marriage. My lovely marriage to my lovely wife. Whom I love and who has some very nice tits of her own. Very nice tits. Think about them for a bit. She does have great tits. Caramel coloured and wonderfully soft. Yes, those are the tits that I'm married to. She also has the most exquisite legs. One would expect her to, of course, as she is at least 5'11”, but they're great. Really great. And there's a fantastic ass on top of that. And her spine glows red when she comes. Just so one is never in doubt. No reason to think about anyone else, really.

 

I haven't had much to do since we got here except wander round and look. Nobody seems to mind my being here, though nobody has made any effort to communicate with me either. I'm simply another person. This is the first fully matriarchal community I have ever seen, discounting the Colonial Fleet under the direction of Laura Roslin (hilarious!) There probably are problems, if only with independence, but admittedly I am yet to see them. Everything seems peaceful and functional, and they hunt but also keep a few animals (they look like cows, but their horns are much longer and sharper, also, the female cows have them too) though I feel very short, and, also, for the first time in my life, very white. I'd never thought about the colour of my skin before, but I was certainly thinking about it when we arrived. I was regarded with some interest. It was a curious feeling, though it's lessened, since I have apparently become innocuous. They eat no vegetables and drink no milk. It's only meat. I've never felt more of a wild man. I'm amazed that no-one appears to have scurvy. I'll also be amazed if I manage to survive much longer, because I don't feel in great digestive shape.

 

I'd like to know how relationships are organised, because while I have seen a lot of children, I have only seen them with groups of women and occasionally with some of the older men. I was allowed to sit with the children for a while, after demonstrating that I knew how to hold one. There's no speech, so I couldn't ask, but they clearly don't have rigid family groups in the same way that we do, which actually makes some sense of the way Mrs. A. acts about Kara, if that's anything like the way the New Earthers in her neck of the woods were before we got there. Also, apparently, they worship the sun, as Mrs. A. told me last night. But – and this distinction is important, apparently, though I don't fully understand it – not as a being. As a lesson.

 

Two pages of literary diarrhoea! I must be bored. I am certainly lonely, which is hardly surprising given I am used to a four child house and the only conversations I have had in two weeks are with the loquacious Mrs. A., or with myself, on these pages or in my head. The nicest part was holding the child. I miss my kids awfully. No surprises there either. I do hope everyone is alright. Writing it will make it so: everyone is alright.

 

 

 

///////////////////////////////////////I saw the beginning of time.\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\///////////

I saw the beginning of time./////////////////////////////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\/////////////////////

I saw the beginning of time.////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\//////////////////////////////////////////////////

I saw the beginning of time.\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\//////////////////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

I saw the beginning of time.\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

I saw the beginning of time./////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

I saw the beginning of time.//////////////////////////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\/////////////////////////

I saw the beginning of time.\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\///////////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\///////////////////////////////////

Everything is CONNECTED.//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Everything happens at once. //////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Nothing is different and everything is the same. \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\////////////////

And everything is utterly complete unto its own.\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\//////////////////////////////////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

the experience of one state is not an excuse to assume it completely

I saw the beginning of time.//////////////////////////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\//////////////////////////////

I saw the beginning of time.\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\////////////////////////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\/////////////////////////

I saw the beginning of time.\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

I saw the beginning of time./////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\/////////////////////\

 

1/11/5

 

I don't know what they gave me in the tent last night, but whatever it was, it knocked me squarely on my ass. Shortly after composing my epic entry on anthropology and my wife's tits, Mrs. A came to say I was allowed in. There were four other women there and that's about all I remember. Mrs. gave me a pretty cock-eyed look this morning when I woke up. I hope I didn't try anything on. Or say anything ridiculous. Given what I wrote before going to bed, chances are high that I at least did the second one, though at least the rest of them wouldn't have understood me. What the frak was it? I haven't been that high since I first left Aerlon. I hope I'm allowed back in the tent.

 

2/11/5

 

Woke up spooning again. This time she was angry. Not angry. That implies too much emotion. Just not impressed. I think I understand, though. Aside from the grossness, it occurs to me that she's not at all grateful about us looking after Kara, the way Lee is, because we're supposed to, because, amongst her people, that's just what's done. In the same fashion, she doesn't even remotely understand how I could be attracted to her because she isn't to me. She doesn't understand why insecurity would contribute to attraction, unless it was going to be about authority, which is related, but not quite the same. And it's insulting, coming from a man. So, while she doesn't find me creepy any more, she's frustrated that I haven't gotten the message. I have, though. I'm just lonely. And she's hot. She's very hot, actually. I'll just put that on the record. She is a sexy woman. Smallish – about the same height as me, maybe an inch taller – and muscular, and her tits are small too, with a little bit of give in them, but still pretty firm, and the combination is nice to hold. About hand sized too, I have found. Lovely. And then, of course, there's the ass, which really is excellent.

 

I was allowed back in the tent after all, and this time, when the cup came my way (there was blood in this cup too, as well as drugs, as it turns out,) I said no. Mrs. had to calm everybody down, because I was supposed to say yes, but I can't manage it, obviously. Or, at least not on an all protein diet. I must have lost about twenty pounds since we left home, so maybe it's just that. I didn't understand any of what went on. I think I was just there so Mrs. could explain who it was that taught her how to perform a medical abortion. But I wasn't sure if we were “talking” about medicine or medical ethics. Or politics. Nobody was speaking in words. I just sat there and tried not to be annoying. It was actually incredibly boring. I should have had some of the hallucinogenic blood. Everybody else did. Good luck to them.

 

 

3/11/5

 

She's trying to introduce the notion of agency. She's trying to tell them that there's a part of women being in charge of their bodies that isn't about having power over men. I think that's what I'm here for. To show a man can share the kinds of power he has with them. This is my reading of events, anyway. I'm not sure it's correct. At any rate, it isn't going well.

 

She told me this morning that if I touched her tits again, she would knee me in the balls. She told me this in gestures, not words, but I certainly understood.

 

4/11/5

 

The idea is that the issue is beyond power. She's not asking them to fight for their way. She's asking them to be available to share knowledge, and to begin building networks by which that knowledge can be passed. Not knowledge about what to think. Literal knowledge about how to do things. So I was, she told me, required to teach a D&C. She says she would have had I not been here, but she'd rather I did it. And, she made me draw the tools, and to try to explain the way they have been made before. It actually went pretty well at first. It's not that hard to understand if you know what a uterus and a cervix are, which they clearly did. Open cervix, scrape child out of uterus. Easy. Except that it's not, and I bloody hope everything I said about the need for sterility and anaesthetics got through. I suspect it will be alright, though, because about half way through one of the women stopped me by putting her hand on my shoulder. Mrs. A. later explained that everyone there was quietly appalled that a man had the audacity to do such a thing to a woman. Even the plant they use rarely, she says. She seemed upset, almost annoyed, about their reaction, but I don't really know why.

 

These were the only parts I understood, though. Aside from the fact that Mrs. was determined that they not look for a fight, and that they not enforce isolation. That they take the “we're all people” cliché with utter seriousness. I'm sure it would be very nice, Mrs. A., but frankly it seems idiotically idealistic. Lee must be rubbing off on her. Still, it seems she has learned a lot, mostly about childbirth and, from somewhere, psychology (at least that's what I got from it, as she touched her head and her heart and said “helping”.) She still has a bit more to go. We leave in two days. Thank frakking god. I can't drink any more blood, even if I do like the topless dancing. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

7/11/5

 

I can't take much more of this. I need a frakking vegetable. I am skinny and loosing control of my irritability. How can she live on only meat? They must be built differently here. They must be able to get by on very different nutrition. I can't. I can see all of my ribs and my stomach hurts and I'm miserable. I can't even whine about it because she doesn't care. I am so sick of walking already and we have almost two weeks to go.

 

8/11/5

 

She told me I was like a child. That I was childish. It was mean and my feelings are hurt. It's not true, either. I didn't even want to be here and I came anyway. That's an adult decision.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

11/11/5

 

I have been existing in a sea of miserable despair, but it was made a bit better when she gave me a hug last night. I doubt she wanted to, but I needed it. We were lying down, for sleep, and she put her arms around me and I fell asleep there. I think, maybe, that she's come to terms with the fact that none of this is natural for me. Or possibly she did it because I spent most of the day crying as well as walking. I can't stop thinking about the women in the tent because they were right and I don't know what to do about it. I think I am very unwell.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

15/11/5

 

The river! We're only four days from home!

 

The shit part is, it's all (literally) uphill from here.

 

Miserable, still. Some of the time when we were walking today, she held my hand when I didn't need it to climb, because I was still crying and I couldn't see. It probably would have turned me on a bit were I not so close to death. Tired. Tired. Tired. Of everything. Regret even bringing the paper. These few tiny ounces are ounces I might not have carried.

 

 

 

16/11/5

 

I suppose by uneventful they meant preordained by others than I. It has a greater power. Everything that has a greater power wins. That's not the same as right. Right is not the same as really true. It's not the same as meaning. God doesn't recognise meaning. It recognises dominance. 

 

And Julia. I can't ev

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

21/11/5

 

The only good part of this whole affair is that I am so obviously in wretched health that I was guaranteed a great deal of sympathetic fussing from C. Lee probably thought I was utterly pathetic, but I don't care, because I feel awful and it was lovely. Throwing up her welcome home dinner was less than fun, but it was still better than the past few days of throwing up nothing. She barely let me go all evening, and I'm not at all sorry.

 

22/11/5

 

All sorts of talking, but I'm far less interested in that than I am in the fact that Lee and C. seem very relaxed with each other. It occurred to me that they might have slept together, but surely that's impossible. Lee wouldn't do that, even if she would. She wouldn't, anyway. She was built to love me. She's not allowed to love anyone else.

 

 

23/11/5

 

I had to ask, in the end. It was driving me crazy. I didn't think I would be quite so jealous, but I am. She laughed at me. They didn't sleep together, she says. They just talked, very intimately. I feel awful that she's not allowed to love anyone else, but she says that is nonsense. I am forced to believe her, but I don't feel that good about it. She tells me that it is a choice, but who could help but wonder? It occurs to me that it might all be a lie, and I can't get rid of it. She said that I was overly fragile, because of my health, and she's probably right. Still.

 

I do wish I felt a bit better. Felix is fed up with me because I'm less than playful. It's not too far from his birthday, actually. He'll be four. Four years old. Four years of subtle untruth.

 

24/11/5

 

Is it possible there were people on Aerlon before the twelve tribes arrived to claim it? Or any of the other colonies? Indigenous Capricans or Picons or something like that. I don't remember reading any suggestion that there had been but that wasn't my area and it doesn't mean

 

And it isn’t her fault. It isn’t her fault. She didn’t do anything.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

27/11/5

 

Worrying about this is just stupid. There are other things to worry about. The farm looks fine, although the irrigation needs a readjustment. It's been running slightly under, and maybe for a few weeks. Not a disaster, but it does need to be fixed before it becomes one. Lee and I have been talking but I can't really concentrate. I need more sleep. At least I can eat now. I was briefly concerned that something might actually be wrong with me physically, besides malnutrition, but I don't care any more. I suppose I'll sleep when I'm dead.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

29/11/5

 

Julia will eat for Hera, apparently. She's eating almost normally (so am I, and many of the same things.)  I've really not wanted to hold her or be with her since I got back and I don't really know why, but today I thought I'd better get over it. She (Julia, not Hera) kept pulling on my beard, and it was very sweet, even if her grip is quite strong. I pretended to bite her fingers, which made her laugh. Later, she and I went for a little walk. Felix wanted to show me the work he'd done in the vegetables, so we went for a look, and I was impressed. He's learned well, and he is very young to have done so, which makes it even more impressive. I have noticed one other thing, too: Wolfie did not come with us. Whatever problems there are with having other people's children being in our care, it is clearly very good for Felix to have the company. He's also become a bit less bossy. This was already happening, I think, but because I've been away, I've noticed the change. It was only one birthday, but he's getting taller. He's still very small, but he doesn't look like a baby any more. It makes me sad. He's already growing up. I didn't want him to stay a baby forever, but I suppose a part of me did, because he was so perfect. There's very little one can do about nature, though. None of us can stay perfect.

 

Mrs. A. can say whatever she likes, but there's no good that can possibly come out of our being here. I keep thinking about the women in the tent, and they're right. I shouldn't have that kind of power. It's not mine. I don't even think matriarchal is the right word. It's partly because women have the children that they have all the knowledge here, because they don't do the other work, so they have time for thinking. And it would be better if we all shared everything, but I don't know how to suggest that happens without power getting all mixed up in it.

 

Makes me think about C. and I, though she's said she wishes I wouldn't. I saw the beginning of time, and we separated. Men and women. But I knew that. Not all species reproduce through sex. Lee doesn't understand. He thinks that it's possible to keep sharing cultures without sharing our same history, but he's wrong. We haven't learned from them the same way they've learned from us. The real problem is that the knowledge we have is quicker, and everybody wants things to be quicker. Both of the Adamas really believe that there can be a sensible, rational merging, which I assume is because they haven't ever actually met any human beings.

 

30/11/6

 

Lee is angry with me. He's refused to agree with my assessment, and I refuse to agree with his, because, obviously, he is wrong. I wish he would shut up about it. The more we interact, the worse it gets. I wrote that about the broader situation, but I think it is also true for Lee and I. I wish he would forget about it, and build a farm of his own. There's nothing we can do now except hunker down and wait for the inevitable. Our culture is a disease, and a virulent one. I suppose theirs is too, but we're the invader. We're the ones ripping into their cytoplasm and replicating. Whichever is the most powerful will create the rightness, and that's the disease we brought with us. Dialectical analysis, and the thing it's applied to. I shouldn't have this power, because it isn't mine.

 

C. is worried about me, apparently. She told me last night that she thinks I am depressed. It might be true, but she is saying this because of my having recognised a reality that is depressing. It's not that I don't see how it could happen, it's just that I don't think people can do it. Consciousness must be used fully or not at all, and even if I speak only for myself, that's very close to impossible.

 

I would very much like to get seriously drunk, but I won't, because if she's right, I'm aware that it's a fatal mix. I don't think I was ever an alcoholic like my father was, but it's true that I tend to try to mediate depression with alcohol, and the result is unpleasant for all concerned. So I'm on my own. Trying to funnel it all into here, but I can't be bothered. The only thing that's good is the children. C. might have done a better job with Hera than I was doing, actually, because her work has really come along in my absence.

 

1/12/6

 

She says she can tell because I haven't tried to have sex with her once. Until she said it, I hadn't even thought about it. She said that she'd thought briefly about Mrs. A., but then dismissed it, which she was right to do. I let her hold me but what I really should have done was told her to get as far away from me as possible. I should do that, but I'm too selfish. My burrow has been invaded by ideas. Can't stop thinking about it.

 

She has them too. She agrees with me but she agrees with them. She doesn't think it matters what happens. She thinks it just matters to try. I worry about her too. I remember her saying, all those years ago, “that's all god wants of us?” They said the plan was never complete. I think she's been waiting for the other shoe to drop, and now she thinks it has. She's wrong. God doesn't know any better than we do.

 

2/12/6

 

Tried to prove to her that everything was fine and it was a disaster. Embarrassing for all concerned. I can't even write about it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

7/12/6

 

 

The variance in the family unit is hard for them to understand. They're family people. So are we, I suppose. It is a big difference – the idea that children wouldn't be raised in a unit, at all, but by the community as a whole. Being away from their child as much as they are is hard enough to come to terms with.

 

Karl reminded me that Rachel knows where I live. It'd never occurred to me to worry about that, but I suppose I should, if only for the children. Lee and Mrs. are planning another trip and it’s possible they’ll take Kara with them. I was going to say something about it but I don’t have the energy. C. did, though. Mrs. agreed with her, partly, though she also thought it would be an interesting experience for Kara. Karl agreed with her, about the agreement with C., not the experience. Sharon said it was their decision. Lee was insulted by the whole Community Comment affair and went outside. After a while, I followed him, but we didn’t talk much. Partly because there wasn’t any point. Actually, I think we talked about Pyramid ball. Or, rather, he talked and I listened, sort of. Pyramid ball bores the crap out of me.

 

8/12/6

 

Shortly before dawn, I came in from milking and Lee was sitting on the new porch drinking tea, so I had some with him. I think both of us were chomping at the bit for a conversation that wasn’t about politics, because he seemed about as glad to see me as I was him. As it was, we talked about sex. Perhaps it was the early hour and perhaps it was the general flatness of my mood, but there was enough honesty in me for unprompted disclosure and I told him about what had happened with C. last week. He said it wasn’t that uncommon, in such a way that I assume it has probably happened to him. That actually makes me feel better, though I’m not sure why, since I knew the medical part already. Misery loves company, I suppose. We still haven’t had any sex since I’ve been back and I have absolutely no interest in it. Every part of my desire feels vile, like a part of the same problem, and so it’s easier not to have it at all. Lee thinks this is overstating the case. He also called me a drama queen, and I’ve called myself the same thing in the past, so he must be right. C. will no doubt agree. She’s a little fed up, though trying not to be. He says Mrs. came back horny. That’s nice, really. And it was one hundred percent frakking excellent talking to Lee about other, non-political things. Easy things. Things that don’t make us argue. Married, dad, grown-up things, outside of which the world does not exist. The sun came up and I felt a bit better.

 

Thinking of, Felix was funny with me today, and yesterday. Distant, and a little bit reticent. Not cheeky or anything, just not that keen to come out with me, and not for any especial reason that I could understand. I think because I’ve been in such a rotten mood since we got back. Some of that is being sick and enfeebled, and some of that is being depressed, but some of that is just plain lazy. He’s your son. How’s about getting over yourself, just a little bit?

 

9/12/6

 

Wolfie back in circulation at breakfast this morning. Time for some serious damage control.

 

11/12/6

 

Spoke to Felix. Tried to make him understand that I just wasn’t well. It might have worked. At the very least, when I put my arms around him, he accepted it, and hugged back. His hair has turned fully brown now, I was forced to notice when I kissed his head. He told me that I don’t make him laugh any more, for which I said I was sorry. He also told me I was too skinny since I got back, which is something I had noticed on my own. But he doesn’t like it and neither do I. It’s not as good for hugging, or, apparently, for sitting on my knee. He said Lee’s were better, which hurt my feelings awfully, though I tried not to let on. Darling Felix. My first-born son.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

13/12/5

 

Happy birthday, Felix. He iss four years old. This is the first year he has ever had a proper party, discounting the one two weeks after he was born, which I doubt he remembers. He was a bit insufferable, but I suppose he is allowed. That’s part of the point, really, especially since the notion of gifts has never been introduced. Later in the day, he explained to both Kara and Hera where babies come from. Well done, Felix. Better they learn it here than on the streets. Hera is old enough anyway and I would have hoped that Mrs. would tell Kara nothing less than the full facts. 

 

Looking forward to Julia’s first, and everyone else’s whatever numbers. I’d rather not acknowledge mine, and C. has more than one, so she doesn’t bother. Mrs. A. found it strange, but we’ve done one for Kara, so they’ll have to keep it up. C. explained that it was a celebration of life, which it is.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

16/12/5

 

Sex. I didn’t really want to but I thought I’d better give it a try, and it did all happen like it was supposed to. It wasn’t entirely bad, but it was very awkward. I might actually have forgotten how. It made her a bit maternal. She told me not to worry, but really. Really. I was like a teenaged virgin. What am I doing? It was like I didn’t know where to put my hands, or anything else. Can I really have forgotten it all? That seems impossible, so my assumption is that it is purely psychological. Great. Absolutely frakking fantastic.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

18/12/5

 

I was talking last night, about the drugs they gave me, trying to explain how it wasn’t a vision. It wasn’t god, or anything like that. It was just that I thought better. I was able to put more things together and they had more resonance. It was just a hallucinogen. Dominance. Opposition. These are things scientists already know.

 

And another thing but I couldn't quite reach it. I didn't say that, but I keep thinking about it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

20/12/5

 

Oh, holy god. This colony was Lee's last presidential decision.

 

No wonder he can’t accept my analysis. He thought he was right and he knows, somewhere, that he wasn't. It explains so much. His friendship with me, for one thing. Why he came back to the village. And the fact that he won't let it go. I can never tell him. Partly because he already knows, but more than anything because knowing it, really knowing it, would kill him. I would rip out his heart. It. It would rip out his heart.

 

Karl and Sharon have gone home, and everyone else goes out tomorrow. I have to avoid speaking to Lee until then, because he will read the knowledge in my eyes. It happened only because he didn't know, but we both know why it can't be forgotten. Except that I'm going to forget it. It's forgotten. What is? Nothing. Nothing.

Nothing.

 

21/12/5

 

We hug now. I don't think that I'd ever written about that, but that's part of our exchange. Hugging. It has become mainstream, for hellos and goodbyes and occasional emotional moments. I absolutely refuse to give that up and there is nothing that will make me.

 

Goodbye Lee.


	7. Stories about Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things fall apart. Horribly obvious metaphors.

24/12/5

 

I give it all up. Every definition of myself. I'm not a genius. If I was, I would have known. Lee is a murderer, and he was shameless in his murder because he believed it was right. As much as I am, as much as I did, he has as much blood on his hands. The villainy and the sickness of those actions has never left and will never leave him, no matter how good he is. He took pleasure in murder. How I could have ever thought that his righteousness protected him from having killed, I don't know. How I could have thought that the way they dehumanised the enemy – my wife, and Karl's – really meant anything to him, now, after he had been close and understood that they are no less human than we are. This last thing had to be right, and it wasn't. He understands. That I could ever have thought he didn't proves only that I am no different than I ever was. Is it actually possible that I am so self involved that I didn't know that this is why he came? That this was why he wanted to see me all those years ago? This is why he forgave me! Because I am the only other person who is as guilty as he is.

 

Lee! You only did it because you didn't know what it was! There is no bad in you, there is only good, and it was used and used and used, and this world, everything we are, if it can do that to you, it is a sickness, and it was better off left to rot. I don't want the responsibility. I don't want to know this. God frakking dammit. I want none of this. God, please make me a patriot. Please make me like him. Please make me believe. Please make me stupid. Don't do this to me again, don't put me outside of the world with this horrible knowledge. It is knowledge so hideous it can't even be written. I love you, and that's all I want to say. I don't want to say the truth. I don't want to tell you that your Eden is only another fall.

 

 

 

 

26/12/5

 

It's too many deaths. Too many deaths. Too many deaths. Too many deaths. And if I were to start writing them down, if I were to make a mark here for each one they would fill all of my papers, over and over again. Too many lives which were burned out in one moment, from one action, made by me. Each one is literally real but the total loss is unimaginable. I try to hold it but sensation persists just outside of my grasp. They are all variables, which means that they matter internally, but the universe does not mind which one lives or dies because it is utterly indifferent and none of us make any sense. Reasons don't matter. But they do. And they don't. And they do and I can't find the right product for that equation, because there is no difference between Lee and I and THERE HAS TO BE because he is better than I am and if he isn't then THIS IS WHO I WILL ALWAYS BE. Everyone I know is a hero and if their actions are right then mine must be too, because there must be an idea that they are part of. It must make SENSE. Somewhere, it has to make SENSE.  But even if it did, it would still be genocide, as it is, now, or will be. Because Lee is wrong. It's only dominance and death is still death, always, and that is what we have done. And if even my heroes aren't right when they decide then what I did can never be right. I thought, if I could believe them then it would be alright, but even if I did, it wouldn't. It wouldn't make any difference, because nothing does. There isn't any rightness and there never was.

 

We shouldn't have done that. All these deaths. We made a terrible mistake. We did a terrible crime and we shouldn't have been allowed to keep living and keeping on living is another terrible crime. We are a terrible thing and we shouldn't have made more of us. And then, what we do is only terrible because it hurts more of us, and that can't be terrible because we are terrible and we deserve that hurt and no one is innocent because they can make an idea and even if they don't, they will still kill, always, because every life is a series of deaths and I'm so tired. I'm so tired. I am tired of thinking. I am tired of being alive. None of it makes any sense. I can only atone for little crimes. For Felix Gaeta and New Caprica and everything else. Not for this. This can never be forgiven. We are only animals if we are without consciousness and then death is only death and that is what I want to be, because if Lee can still do evil then there is no hope for me.

 

I am in serious trouble with mum. I probably deserve it, but I'm too drunk to care.

 

27/12/5

 

Mother told me that if I won't stop it, I can't be around the children. She's right. Trying to decide. I pretend I love my children, but that's false. I don't love them. I'm actually not capable of that because none of us are. It is only biology and so nothing else matters.

 

I didn't have a vision. This morning I broke a cup and cut myself because I'm too frakking drunk and I was looking for something to wrap it with and in her things I found the notes I had written, for her and for Felix and they are indulgent and pathetic and I didn't feel then what I am feeling now. I have too much thought and too much power and everybody who comes close to me will be made evil or is evil already, because evil is made by thinking. But if I do any more I destroy them and I don't want any of it. I just want it to stop. I wrote to Felix that it was better and it will be, but it also won't, even if it will and there is not even a sensible answer, because science has no language for meaning and so it doesn't make sense.  I am so tired and it is too hard. 

 

 

1/1/6

 

I had never remembered this: they don't have to see what is there. Cylons. They can see whatever they want. That's how they found their way around the base star. Because to them, it was a forest, a city. Anything. I got lost, because to me it was only a base star. I had forgotten, because she says she never uses it. She won't let herself. She insists on seeing what is there. I think I don't. I think I make myself see a forest. I think I always did.

 

2/1/6

 

What made me do it is that while she was telling me and I got out my papers and was going to write and be alone and deliberate and a bastard and I happened to I read over and I had referred to her as my mother. That was so terrifyingly frakking sick that even I couldn't ignore it. I've never been so afraid in my life. It was like not saying anything was actually eroding my sanity, as if my mind was eating itself. I thought, when I finally lost my mind that it would be quiet but it isn't. I even told her that. I started and I couldn't stop. I didn't mean to tell her anything and I'm not sure how much I did because it isn't my first language. She has come in from time to time to talk to me, I think. It might be her. They all look the same anyway.

 

My understanding is that she forgives me because I forgave her before. We deserve to burn, but we will forgive each other, because we have to, because we've made other people now and we have to. But it's just a game. Up to this point it was a lie, or at least it was just something that sat on the surface of what was really there. It had never occurred to me to blame her before, except for the way she hurt me, because it's too big and it hasn't really happened. It will be the end of their world, just as what I did was the end of ours. I did it because I was selfish and he did it because he was selfless but neither of those things is better or worse than the other, because it's the action that matters, and none of it makes any sense. I needed him to be better than me and he isn't and neither is she. I'm glad I told her because of the children but I don't want her to sleep in here with me. She is a murderer, or, someone who looks like her is. I don't know any more. I want to be alone. I am trying to make myself alone but the more I write the more voices there are.

 

 

 

 

 

5/1/6

 

Felix is not comfortable with me and I don't blame him. I can't

 

It's like my vision is slipping off itself.

 

Julia sits with me in bed today, saying her only word. It's not my name this time. It's her own (though she says it “Boolia”) I want it to protect her. She is down to one feed, and so I can take care of her here. I am trying to teach her more words.  She clearly wants to know them, because she laughs. She's slipped off to sleep on C.'s pillow.

 

She is named after my father. I didn't realise that at the time, but she is. His name was Julius.

 

6/1/6

 

She said she forgives me because I talked this time. Because I told the truth. She says if I tell the truth, we can be together forever. I don't love her any more but it doesn't matter. I do a little bit, I suppose, but these feelings are like tiny pieces in a tapestry of nothing. I can't love someone who has done what she has done, which means I can't love anyone and I don't even understand what ties me here, to this world, because I have been gutted from the inside and I am not really alive. I don't know how to describe it but I have to try because scientifically it must mean something, that I am only a skin, that my being is a funnel and only the merest point makes contact with this world. I can see it, but it is not really here.

 

But I have nothing better to do, so it doesn't matter. But she can't make any more sacrifices for me. She can't lie to me ever again. It might not matter, but it matters to me. But it is so selfish to have anything matter. And I have written all this and no time has passed since I began. It is possible that it has, but I can't register it. It might have done. The moment has an internal logic, possibly. There is a point of contact but I don't know where it is.

 

She said she knew that about Julia. I said, why hadn't she said anything. She said she thought it was better to know on my own. That's the kind of sacrifice she can't make. She can't protect me from knowing.  She says it will pass. She's right, because everything already has. I shouldn't be drunk around my kids. She probably doesn't know I've started again or she wouldn't have said that. I've found if I keep a steady level, if I don't go over, it's not as obvious. Remember that: no more than two an hour. It's not like my father. It's just to keep it quiet. Just to keep everything quiet.

 

She says she envies me my lack of faith. How utterly bizarre.

 

7/1/6

 

Rachel the Intern arrived today so I had to get out of bed. Hera regarded her with total suspicion and hid behind C.'s legs, which was out of character. Felix was pleased to see her and gave her a hug, because he only remembers the nice things she did with him. I felt the briefest stirring of terror, and I was sorry that it went because it was the first thing I have felt in some time. But she was here because she'd been wrong. C. told her to leave and she was going to but I said she could stay.

 

She didn't realize that believing in what men and women were supposed to do meant she couldn't be a doctor. This is more or less exactly what I told her would happen, although I never thought it would happen in her lifetime. Once upon a time, I'm sure I would have made her suffer for that, but it's just not in me any more. She wants me to keep teaching her, but that isn't in me either. She can stay as long as she likes, especially if she's prepared to work, but she can't have anything else.

 

 

 

 

 

 

9/1/6

 

She was dying anyway but I made sure that she did. I strangled a woman to death. A six, and there was no resurrection ship. I did it to make her stop. She didn't even know who I was.

 

Where is that, inside of me? Where does that live? My little girl is

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

11/1/6

 

Karl and Sharon arrived today, with all of their things and all of the Adama's things. I had gathered this from Rachel but their presence confirms it. The village is no longer what it was. It's crowded here but I don't care because  I'm not really here anyway.

 

12/1/6

 

Out in the corn today, thinking about the harvest, Karl came. Hera told him about before. I had nothing else to do except apologise but it doesn't really matter. He thinks she has a crush on me and he wants to know what I did. I don't know but what I will do now is avoid her. Karl wanted to take a swing at me, I could tell, but I'm such a pathetic creature that he couldn't do it. He protects his women. I admire that position. I might even love him for it, even if it's not mine. My women protect me, and they do it to atone for whatever it is we made them feel.

 

13/1/6

 

Rachel has started talking to me about New Caprica. I've already apologised and I won't again, because it wouldn't do anything. But it's not that hard to listen. Her brother was so young when he died. He died in the occupation and neither of us are sure whether or not it was friendly fire. Her parents are dead too, but they died later. Poor girl. She needed the faith she had, and now it's gone. C. won't forgive her – not for her politics (or, rather, because she agreed, not for the way she applied them), and not for her presence the last time she was here – but she should. She didn't do anything except what she thought was right, like her, or like Lee. She is a good worker, too. Quiet. Guilty.

 

 

 

 

 

 

15/1/6

 

I can't even remember what I did to start it but Felix cried and said he didn't understand. Did I hate him or myself?  He's only four, but I think I do hate him a little, because he is human and because he is not perfect any more and the less perfect he is the worse it is for Julia. He misses Kara and Lee. Karl looked like he wanted to hit me again. I suppose he understands that they made a mistake now, leaving Hera with us. It must be his first one, and so a novel experience. Welcome to the human race, Karl. C. sent me outside. She is insane. What is she doing here? She was made to love me and that is so literally nauseating I cannot stand it. She is the end result of what is happening now. We made her. These ideas are what made her. She has no hair on her legs and a body like a gymnast and is sharp tongued when she wants to be and has a name that we gave her and all of that is wrong.

 

16/1/6

 

Felix shouted at me today and I cried my first tears since walking with Faith. He says he hates me and after yesterday, I completely deserve it. How could I have come so long without crying I do not know. So much has happened and normally I would have cried my way though all of it. I shouldn't have cried in front of Felix. He shouldn't be able to make me cry. I am sorry for that. It was very public, too, but Felix is the only one I care about. Sharon was there, and Rachel. C. had Julia, who is too young, so it's alright. She gave her to Rachel because she was closest and then came and put her arms around me. Sharon had taken Felix, I think, but I don't really remember.

 

It was wrong that she did that. So was what I did. I still remember the day that I understood that I had power over my father and I will never forget it. I wasn't ready for that power and it made a hole in the universe. I'm too tired not to cry, though. I don't know what else to do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

18/1/6

 

She said she had spoken to Felix. Sharon had taken him outside and was talking to him, and supposedly I was in the sitting room for a very short time before going to bed. I don't really remember the chain of events. She said, she actually went to Felix first, before coming to me. I hadn't remembered that. In fact, when I picture what happened, that isn't what happened. But she did. She says I never have to worry about that, because that is how it will always be. But she said she had let Sharon take him, while she spoke to me, or tried to. I didn't cry for very long. I know Felix should hate me, but she says he doesn't. He is too young. But he will. She said he will. If I don't stop, my son will hate me.

 

She was very angry with me. She is very angry with me. She will forgive anything except hurt upon our children. She told me I had two choices: I could stop drinking, or I could leave. She knows. She knew all along. She just trusted me to come out of it. She was wrong. Frakking drunk asshole. 

 

19/1/6

 

Alright. This is what my wife said. I went to bed last night and then didn't get up yesterday or today and about mid afternoon, she came in and asked me if I please would because they needed me outside and I said I couldn't. So she said, why not? And then, I got her to sit down and put my hand on my arm and tried to break up with her. I said I had made my decision and it was better for her and for Felix and Julia if I left.

 

It didn't work. She said that it was a lazy decision, and a selfish one, and I was capable of better. I was just doing the easy thing. According to her, I was totally one hundred percent right about her and right about what was wrong. Then she said, she didn't give a flying frak (she actually used that phrase, too), how I saw her because she was still her own self. She doesn't care what greater force makes her makes those decisions or if she is made to or whatever else, because they are hers. She says, if I want to start feeling better about having that kind of power over women, what I have to do is give it up. Just give it up. No more power. I don't have any power over who she is. I'm not constructing her. She is consciously constructing herself. How is it that everybody already knows what I think I have just figured out?

 

And she said, if I wasn't prepared to respect the fact that she felt deeply about me and that she truly sympathised, and partly because she was literally able to, then I could go frak myself, because that was just more of the same frakking power that I shouldn't have. She said, caring about our children didn't mean that she didn't care about me. And I said that this was my problem, that it was all about me no matter what I've done, and that was visible in the way I had spoken to Felix, as if his whole being was nothing more or less than a comment on whether or not I was good. And she said that that was true. And that it was the worst possible thing I could do to him, and that leaving was marginally better, but that she wanted me to be fully cognisant that the difference between the two actions was marginal, especially since leaving would also include leaving her as solely responsible for two young children. So I was going to have to figure out a solution, and specifically a solution that did not involve alcohol. And if I was going to leave, she said, she wanted to hear from me that I knew what the consequences of that action were. She wouldn't let me idealise it, she said. My behaviour had been hurtful and destructive, but it was made that way because of how much they loved me, not because it came from some pure source of evil. Leaving would likewise be hurtful. She is right, really. But she didn’t tell me what exactly to do and I wish she would because I don’t know. I keep trying and trying and I can't fix it. It always comes back because the actions have always happened.

 

I got up, at any rate. They wanted me to look at some mould under the eggplants, and I got to use my microscope again. I had missed it, and there was a quietness there, a clarity, a lack of consciousness that was extraordinarily peaceful.

 

 

 

 

 

2/2/6

 

Read everything from the beginning. Took me around four hours, because my eyesight is really not what it was. Realise I've pretty much had the same problem forever. Audible sigh.

 

 

 

 

 

4/2/6

 

INTERNAL ANALYSIS: DIARIES KEPT ON NEW EARTH by Dr. Gauis Baltar

__

PRE-ESTABLISHED FACTS.

 

  1. There is nothing I can do about everything that has already happened.
  2. But there is everything I can do about what has yet to happen.
  3. Except the things that are outside of my control.
  4. Which is most things.
  5. But not my relationships with people, including, but not limited to:



5a) Felix Baltar

5b) Julia Baltar

5c) Caprica Baltar neé Six

5d) Lee Adama

5e) Mrs. Adama

5f) Kara Adama

5g) Hera Agathon

5h) Sharon Agathon

5i) Karl Agathon

5j) Rachel whatever her last name is.

 

SUBSETS AND SUBSEQUENT OBSERVATIONS.

Subset 1) Everything that has already happened.

 

  1. Death is very sad.



 

Subset 2) Everything that will happen.

 

  1. Death is very sad.



 

Subsets 3&4) Things that are outside of my control.

 

  1. Death.



 

Subset 5) Relationships with people.

 

  1. Other people make their own decisions.
  2. Find out what they are.
  3. Discuss.
  4. Try to understand.
  5. Remember the things that are important.



 

Extrapolation of subset 5).

 

5a) Felix

Felix is a person, and the more he becomes a person, the better it is. It means only about him and nothing about me, and I will not blame him for my own inadequacies. Furthermore, I am older than him and I am his father and even when they are not directed at him, my moods affect him, which means they have to be mediated. And, whatever it is that used to make him laugh, I'm going to do that. He is a child. That doesn't mean he is an adult but perfect, moving further away from perfect and closer to the kind of person I am. It means he is a child. He is a child, and I am an adult.

 

5b) Julia

She is her own person. I will not make her into anything. I'm going to let her tell me who she is, and then, I will help that happen. I will find out about her. I will hold her and play with her and I will not regard her as symbolic of the harm I do or have done. She is a person. This is fundamental.

 

5c) Caprica

She is wholly complete without recourse to me. Regardless of whether or not I love her, I will care about her (and live with her) until I die, and so it is worthwhile for me to try to listen to her ideas as well as her emotions. She brought me down and she redeemed me. She did both of those things, but that isn't what she was really doing. She was fighting a war and it had nothing to do with me, until she loved me. She loves me now and that's not because of me, it's because of her. I have to let that be her choice, not mine. Anything else would be insulting. Equally, it is perhaps worthwhile to say some of the things I write about her OUT LOUD instead of just writing them down.

 

5d) Lee

What I need to do is figure out how to be equivalent with him. He's my brother, not my father.

 

5e) Mrs. A.

She tends to take me at face value, so I will attempt to ensure that value is accurate, since we have a lot to learn from each other.

 

5f) Kara

I doubt I will have to change much, because Kara will be exactly who she is. One thing I can do is teach her to draw diagrams, but I doubt she will care much.

 

5g) Hera

If she does, in fact, have a crush on me, I should treat it with both caution and sympathy. Hera is a very sweet girl, and I don't want to hurt her or frighten her.

 

5h) Sharon

Listen when she talks. Sharon can teach me how to decide about things.

 

5i) Karl

His opinion of me is not the only one there is. However, many of his opinions are extremely relevant.

 

5j) Rachel

Find out her last name.

 

 

Subset 6) Functional frameworks.

First function: I am my father's son, but not my father.

  1. My father is really dead and there is nothing I can do about it.
  2. He shouldn't have treated me the way he did, because I didn't deserve it.
  3. Unfortunately, being dead, he will never apologise.
  4. Nor will he ever be in a position to treat me differently (thus implying approval.)
  5. Which means waiting for him to decide whether I deserve what is happening to me is futile.
  6. This knowledge extends symbolically across all arenas. 
  7.  And, in fact, no external judgement of my behaviour is relevant.



7 a) Deserving is an external construct.

7b) I decide what I deserve.

7c) I don't deserve what I have.

7d) I will deserve what I have.

7e) I deserve what I have.

7f) It doesn't matter because I have it anyway.

7g) But I'd like to treat people in a way that I'm not ashamed of regardless.

 

FUNCTION: My own judgement is a reliable tool for the treatment of others. I do know when I'm doing it wrong, but there will never be a right answer.

 

Second function: I am not a good drunk.

  1. Alcohol tends to make things worse, not better. 
  2. I can drink sometimes without issue.
  3. However, I am pretty frakking awful about determining when those times are.
  4. And, in fact, alcoholism tends to be hereditary, whether through learning or genetics.
  5. So: perhaps one day, but not now.
  6. In consequence, processing the following, without recourse to drunkenness, is essential.



FUNCTION: No drinking. At all. Ever.

 

Third function: Who I was is not who I am.

  1. I have some qualities that are extremely problematic.
  2. I have others which are very valuable to the people I care about.
  3. All of my judgements of myself are based on my behaviour.
  4. I was never “bad”.
  5. Instead, acted badly.
  6. Calling myself bad gives me an excuse to act badly.
  7. I don't want to act that way if I can help it.
  8. Nothing says I have to.



 

FUNCTION: Treat each action as independent of every other action.

 

Fourth function: “genius”.

  1. I am not as smart as I think I am.
  2. I am a lot smarter than I think I am.



 

FUNCTION: Use it as it is; a tool, not a definition.

 

FRAMEWORKS:

 

  1. Recognise that there is a problem. 
  2. Pay attention to both the pre-existing facts and the tendencies that will influence my behaviour.
  3. Do not attempt to solve the problem with alcohol.
  4. Instead, TALK about the problem OUT LOUD and TO ANOTHER PERSON.
  5. LISTEN TO THEM, and take their opinions on board.
  6. Consider them with my own judgement.
  7. Do not use diary as substitute for human contact. It is a little bit insane that I continually refer to myself in the third person. 



 

 

SUPLEMENTARY NOTES (non sequential):

  * God has done me, on balance, more harm than good.
  * The experience of one state is not an excuse to assume it completely. Addressing small instances of problematic behaviour will potentially forestall the assumption of larger problems.
  * It's never going to be fixed by a revelation, and I know this because I have had them, oh, only a million times and still, here we are. I will actually have to do it consciously, and continuously, and actively. 
  * Don't write “Faith”, because that’s not her name. Neither is Mrs. A., but at least that makes the construction apparent.
  * Most importantly: My family loves me. It is my job to remember this caveat, not their job to tell me. 



 

 

 

 

 

 

12/2/6

 

Karl agrees with me totally about the colony. We have been laying another room out because there's really not enough space. Sharon is in charge. I don't know where she learned it, but she is good with both Felix and Hera. She understands what Felix can do and what he can't, and she never makes him feel too young or too old. I envy her that, but I am learning from it. It's really true that we need other people to teach us.

 

He hasn't forgiven me, Felix. I don't blame him. What I said to him was cruel. I was deliberately malicious because I wanted to hurt him because he's not perfect any more. What I want to tell him is that he is perfect BECAUSE he is not perfect. That there is no perfection, and I love him BECAUSE HE IS FELIX. And then, there's the other thing.

 

13/2/6

 

Rachel Macen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

16/2/6

 

I didn't write this, but Felix came in the bed the other morning after he got up. I wasn't quite woken up, but it was hard to stay asleep with he and C. babbling away to each other. Then, they tickled me. Can't really find the right words for that. He is frightened of me, still, or frightened of his power. But he's so young, and I think his memory is still pretty short. Because C. was there, he felt safe, and then, in that context, he was able to interact with me in a way that is a little bit like it was when he was younger. That's good. It's good that he's allowed to be a child, and I think I'm jealous of him, because I wasn't. But he is sweet and adoring, and it was a very lovely time.

 

So, I write something like that, and I feel good, and I want to say that everything is good now, but that's not the whole truth. Things still happened, even that day, which were unpleasant, or even just indifferent. It can't ever be wholly good. My assumption here is that it can't be wholly bad, either, but the point I think I am coming to is that my thought process in this matter is related to the one I have spent so much time opposing (or being opposed by, to be more accurate.) Within my writing is the actual process by which I create the forest. I see what I want to see. I still can't believe I could have been so stupid about Lee. Especially after reading the part from before Felix was born, with C. Heroes don't make and less mistakes than I do, I just don't see them as mistakes. I envy certainty, but really, even for those who have it, it is awfully temporary.

 

 

17/3/6

 

Eleven years ago now, I was party to genocide. I worked for the Colonial Defence Department, and, after a period of some negotiation, I gave the access codes to Caprica Six, with whom I had been in a relationship for two years. I trusted her, but at the same time, I didn't trust her. I had no reason to believe Cylons looked human – at the time, we all thought they looked very much like the machines they were - but I knew she was different from anyone I had ever met, which perhaps explains why I had been in a relationship with her for such a long time. Two years was a long time for me at that point, because the standard length of a relationship for me was one night. I cheated on her more or less continuously, but this is neither here nor there. I gave her the codes. She told me she was working for a company that was pitching a computer system to the Defence Department. I believed her. She looked at my CNP programme and she rewrote half my algorithms.

 

What happened then was the fall. The Cylons used those codes, and they used what she had built into my programme and they launched an all out nuclear attack on the 12 Colonies. The vast majority of the human race died at that moment, and many more would die later. I would have too, had Caprica Six not sheltered me from the blast, and Karl Agathon not given me his seat on a rescue raptor. She died then, and I thought she had died forever, but back then, they could still resurrect. Her consciousness downloaded into another body and I saw her again, on New Caprica.

 

It was genocide. Or, at least, it was attempted genocide, as it was not, obviously, entirely successful. I was party to it. If I had not done what I did, it would never have happened. Others have rationalised it, and suggested that such a fall was inevitable. I have even done this myself, convincing myself that the fall served the purpose of a scriptual flood, that humanity deserved it, that it was necessary. It wasn't, and I knew that. It's only that I couldn't understand it, how I could do something so innocuous that was so evil.

 

It wasn't evil, though. Actually, in the vast scheme of the universe, it was neither here nor there. God cares about it, apparently, but given the capriciousness of god, all I can think about that is that it adds another layer of dominance to the proceedings. In reality, there is no objective rightness, or wrongness, to any of the actions I took.

 

There are, however, ethical rightnesses and wrongnesses. The understanding I have now indicates two things: firstly, that I acted both selfishly and thoughtlessly, and secondly, that it never occurred to me that anything bad would come of it. I never did a malicious thing (in that instance. I have done malicious things, of course.) I didn't want anybody to die. What I should have learned from that experience is that actions have consequences, and that people can die from thoughtlessness just as easily as they die from intention. It actually took me a long time to learn this, though I should have learned it at the time.

 

The problem I have been having now is that I will insist on looking for a way that I can be wholly good, and thus redeem myself for an action which is wholly bad. This is a problem because good and bad are false terms. It would be considerably better to set my sights on being thoughtful and less selfish, without recourse to a broader narrative. The point of this chain of thought is this: I do not care what god, or any other overriding force, thinks of me.  I care what I think of me, and I care what happens in my life, and what happens to my family. Lee told me this once. He told me that it was up to me. At the time, it made me join in a fight. Now, it's going to make me bow out of one. Actions have consequences, is what I have learned. There is no perfect action, so I have to pick the actions which have consequences I can live with. It won't be perfect, because it never is.

 

Irrespective of these facts, I am sorry for what I did. No apology erases it and it can never be undone. But I am very, very sorry. I meant no harm, but I did something then that I will regret for the rest of my life.

 

 

 

 

 

20/2/6

 

I had a talk with Felix today. I tried to be like Sharon, to remember that he was a child. I said, again, that I had not been very well, and that I did not mean what I had said to him, and upset about other things and I was sorry. But that regardless of all these things, I should never, ever have said those things to him and I never will again, and that it was on every level my fault and he in no way deserved it. He said he didn't remember. I think he remembers the feelings if not the words, because he doesn't like being alone with me, and it is horribly obvious. I can remember my father when he was drinking, and I do not blame Felix the tiniest bit. My drunk, violent, emotionally abusive father was both impotent and immense and I was equally frightened of him and of myself because it wouldn't stop and because he blamed me. That I have done this to Felix makes me hate myself, because I remember it with utter clarity, and I remember how truly awful it was, and not just what he did to me, but what I was able to do to him. I even think that part of it was worse. That power wasn't mine, and it isn't Felix's either.

 

The difficulty then is taking this, and saying, yes, it was done. I regret those actions, the words themselves and that emotional violence. I wish more than anything that I could take it back but I have only one choice. I cannot fix them, so I have to instead do this: not repeat them. That's it. That's all I can do. I can't undo it because it has been done and it will always have been done. Too much has happened for us to have the relationship we once had, and this knowledge dislocates me and shifts me to a point where I fear I will literally tip over, as if it were already ruined forever, and so I want to give it up and get as far away from it as possible. But that's not right, because that gives him more of that terrible power. Also because if I am careful, we might have a different relationship and this is what I have to remember. I love my son, and I want him to know that, and I can't do it in only words. It has to be the truth.

 

 

21/2/6

 

It occurs to me that she consistently takes responsibility for herself, as well as for me. She must be very tired of that. We ought to get stoned together again, some time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

25/3/6

 

This has only just occurred to me but I sincerely hope everybody is not planning to live in our house forever. Nearby would be fine. Nearby would even be good. But not in our house.

 

My mother used to say that guests always had to be made welcome, and that the worst thing a person could do was to somehow let them know that they weren't. That even if one was tired or overworked by having guests, or there wasn't enough food, that they should hide that and pretend it was easy. She was frakking crazy. Everything had to look good. Everything had to look like we weren't poor and we didn't struggle and then when she died my father stopped doing all of it and it all went to shit and I tried to keep it up and he called me a faggot and so I let it go. At that point, we ceased to be able to hide it and everybody knew. Shortly after that, I had sex for the first time which is how I knew he was wrong. He hit me for that too. I could have gotten her pregnant. I really could have. I was so stupid.

 

He was never powerful. Everything was out of his control. Death was out of his control. He could never forget the first Cylon war and sometimes he used to get very angry about the fact that he'd fought for his people and his reward was nothing. When he was really drunk, at home, after they'd thrown him out of the pub, he would sometimes say this. I didn't understand that then, but I do now, and I'm sorry. I thought about this today and I have changed my mind. He's dead, so he can't forgive me, but I'm alive, so I have to forgive him. He didn't have any power, and he was afraid, and he couldn't undo anything that had happened. He didn't mean me any harm.

 

 

 

 

17/3/6

 

Happy birthday, Julia!

 

Well done, darling. A whole year of life is nothing to be sneezed at! You are now walking, talking and expressing all manner of personality, which both your mother and I find fantastic. You seemed to have a very nice time, even if everybody fussing over you made you a bit uncomfortable. You like a bit of personal space, I notice, and you like to choose when somebody is admitted to it. Today, you were very gracious. I wonder how conscious you were of this, because it really seemed like you made a decision to be nice, as if you recognised that our party was about celebrating you, so really, it was for us.

 

What you like the most is when I hold your hands and you stand on my feet, and we walk around the room like that. I don't know why you like that, but I do too, and very much. I like feeling that you trust me, because it means that my care is getting through. I do love you, Julia, and sometimes, reflecting on that love lets me know that some decisions are important, even when they are hard.

 

 

 

 

19/3/6

 

Hera really does have a crush on me, as it turns out, and it appears to be enduring. This sensation is utterly bizarre, and a little bit horrible. She's so young, so obviously I would never reciprocate, but it's rather confronting to have to recognise the machinations and the frameworks behind both attraction and the kinds of relationships I have tended to have with women in the past. Really, it was what she said that made me think about it. She said she was sorry I was sad, and she wanted to be the one to help me, and I am forced to consider the fact that most women I have been with have expressed this sentiment, albeit in more complicated terms. Much of my relationship with C., even, has been in dialogue about that one issue.

 I had no idea what to say when she said this, so I just told her thank you and that it was very thoughtful of her but she didn't need to, but that wasn't really enough, and I do know that. I'm wondering if the best course of action is just to ignore it and assume she'll get over it, but Karl is right when he says that   a more consistent change of behaviour is required, because he has talked to her about me and the same stuff keeps coming through. Also, he says, partly it's because she loves Felix and Julia. She thinks C. is too hard on me. She has no idea! C.'s actually a little annoyed about the whole thing, because, god knows, it's hard enough living with someone like me without outside criticism. I suggested she talk to Hera but C. thinks that would make it worse, as if Hera's feelings were a part of an adult exchange. 

 

Today's honesty: It's just the tiniest bit flattering. That's not alright, either.

 

20/3/6

 

Not much makes Felix laugh. He is a pretty serious child. He is a lot like me, actually, or, at least as I imagine I would have been. He is boundlessly trusting, and he takes any affront to that trust as a serious breach. He is surprised when people don't understand things that he thinks are obvious, too. I'm trying to think what made him laugh. I've never once written about it, except when he was a baby, and making a goofy face no longer works (thank god it still does for Julia.) I'm trying to remember what made me laugh at his age, but very little did. Very little does now, actually. It's not as if I don't think things are funny, but I don't laugh. A few times I have, and mostly they are related to feeling comfortable with the person I'm laughing with. Maybe that's true for Felix as well? He wants to know that he is safe to be silly, because he takes himself very seriously.

 

21/3/6

 

Karl and I were talking about Felix last night, and this is what he said: scatological humour makes Felix laugh. Not because there is anything particular about his personality, but because he is four.

 

It was a good point but my double doctorate did not adequately prepare me for poo jokes. I'm not sure I know how to make them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

25/3/6

 

C. and I were talking in bed last night, about scatological humour. She said she had never found it especially funny. I tried to think of some to tell her, as sort of a test run for Felix, and then I felt awful. It came from nowhere, as if my body just filled up with this horribleness and wickedness and sin and shame and I went silent and she noticed. At first I didn't want to tell her, but she noticed (obviously) and asked me what was wrong. I didn't know. She leaned up on her elbow and gave me a look.

 

I've written this far but I don't want to write the rest. I should, though, because that's the point of keeping this in the first place. The rest is that I wasn't allowed to tell jokes like that when I was a child. A couple of times I did, and both of my parents hit me. My mother, and my father. On separate occasions, but more than once. They shouldn't have hit me for that, and they shouldn't have hit me regardless, about anything. I'd never told her about any of it before, because, inside, I knew I deserved it. She said I didn't. She said nobody ever did and for some reason that made me cry.

 

 

 

 

27/3/6

 

 

I couldn't quite get to telling Felix any jokes, so I did what I know how to do: brought up the subject for academic discussion. It got about half way through and he started laughing. At first I was confused by this, and then I asked him why he was laughing. “Because you're talking about poos, daddy,” he said. I feel much better now that I know it is the content, and not the form which is necessary to produce humour.

 

28/3/6

 

Everybody got stoned after the kids were in bed, even Rachel, though she didn't have very much. C. threw a bit of lemon at me because I wouldn't stop making poo jokes. She was laughing, though. I love her. It's changed though, and I suppose it will again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

29/3/6

 

This is the question I have about Lee: can anything he does make it worse? Or better? Because if it can then I have to make our assumptions and knowledges apparent. He can't do it to atone, which means that I will actually have to impose my ethics on him. Not because of objective rightness, but because I consider that the consequences of what I tell him to do would be less dire than what he is doing. Real thinking, then. ~~Great.~~ Alright.

 

I miss him a lot. I wonder about him, and I worry about him, and I sincerely hope that they are not feeding Kara only meat. I'm still about ten pounds skinnier than I used to be, and the very smell of dried meat still makes me retch uncontrollably. I know it's hard on C. but I really find it difficult to eat any meat any more.

 

30/3/6

 

I had a smoke with Karl last night, for some reason. That's not true. I know the reason: I miss Lee. But it was interesting. Karl was interested in my treatment of ethics. In fact, he more or less agreed with it entirely, though he said he'd never considered it that way before. It was a funny conversation, actually, partly because I started to understand half way through that it was really Lee who taught me not to be so precious about the correctness of my own ideas, and once or twice I almost told Karl off for agreeing with me (and for not being Lee.) He did have good parents, he says, and he says that possibly this was why. They taught him to trust himself, and so he always has. He often misses them, apparently. They died in the fall.

 

Karl had this to say about Lee: Lee needs everything to be perfect, and to be set to a certain ideal, or not at all. He says he remembers Lee being depressed before. When, Karl says, Lee thought he was somehow responsible for things not being perfect, and had no idea how to proceed. Karl also said that both Lee and I are people of extremes. That's accurate, I think. On politics, he believes that the best course of action would be to simply act as well as possible according to individual circumstance, though he's not opposed to networks of information. He said it would be important that we attempt to practically preserve parts of New Earth culture by not getting involved. I think he would have made a good president, but that's possibly because he never would have wanted the job. Funnier still, I think he wants to be friends with me because we both have mixed race marriages. At least, I think that's what he was getting at, that I couldn't be all bad because at least I was never racist. He's right. Selfish, thoughtless and drunk, yes, but never racist, and probably because it has never even occurred to me to be so. That's the kind of thing that matters to Karl. He said, and really this is very insightful, that the boundary between treason and not being racist could sometimes be conflated. I certainly committed treason, he said. There's no confusion about that. But, he says, treason too requires a dominance, and that is worth knowing. He says that he was the one who made the decision to stay out and wait for Kara Thrace, on the Demitrius. He says, if he had made a different decision, Felix Gaeta might have kept his leg. But, also, that we wouldn't be here. 

 

He is concerned about Rachel. He thinks she seems a bit lost. I don't really care, but then again, I do. She's our little orphan and we have to take care of her and really it should be me.

 

 

 

2/5/6

 

Spoke to Rachel. She misses her faith. I told her it was alright to have it provided she didn't take it as an excuse to stop thinking. She seemed grateful. She even cried a little. This made me profoundly uncomfortable, but I have her a hug anyway. I wish C. would talk to her. She's accepted her, but she still doesn't really like her. Honestly, I suspect that it is a There But For The Grace Of The Gods Go I situation.

 

3/5/6

 

Karl has told me that I have to talk to Hera because it's getting out of hand. I don't know what to say. Hera, you are very lovely, but you are eleven years old and I am married? Hera, I am much nicer to you than I normally am, so your feelings for me are unwarranted? Hera, my sadness, such as it is, is not your fault? Hera, what made you learn so well was you, and not me? Hera, adulthood is complicated? Hera, you'll find someone from the new world? Hera, please don't have a crush on me, because I don't entirely hate the attention, especially since it is from someone as pure and innocent as you, and this recognition makes me feel like a dirty old man?

 

 

4/5/6

 

Julia couldn't sleep, so we were up. She is asleep now, but I'm still thinking about Lee.

 

Karl said, once we were through talking about Hera, that we would have to speak to Lee, that we would have to tell him. I don't want to change Lee, and I realize that's the reason I don't want to do it, but Karl is right, and so is C. We were talking about it over Julia's cries.  She says if we're going to do anything, it should be learning. She wants to know about their religion and I wish I had more to tell her, but I understood very little. Even now, I'm struggling contain the concepts. A lesson, not a being, as if god was just a collection of ideas.

 

 

 

 

 

7/5/6

 

It's because I saved her, of course. Inside, she still thinks of me as a saviour. Silly girl. I asked her to come and help me pick oranges and she did. I didn't know how to start the conversation, but I needn't have worried, because she said that, out of nowhere, that it was sad that nobody understood me. I said, nobody understands anyone. She says, you do me. And I said, that wasn't true. I said I knew how to do math, and so did she. And, that I had actually studied at college for seven years, and then five more on top of that, teaching, and that was how I knew how to teach. It wasn't a gift, it was a skill. Then she said, that she did me. I was thinking about how to answer that when she said the thing about my having saved her life. Then I said, Hera, any decent person would have saved your life. That was about you, not about me. I was just the person who happened to be there. It wasn't terribly effective, but at least I know why now. 

 

8/5/6

 

C. now calls me The Heartbreak Kid. It is said mostly with humour but with a little bit of bitter irony. The sort of thing grown-ups can laugh about. And then smack each other on the ass and have wild oral sex about, as Julia is now weaned in entirety, and we have to be very careful. I've thought about asking C. if we might try it in the ass, actually. I'm perhaps ninety percent sure that she would.

 

 

 

 

 

 

10/5/6

 

What I did, in the end, was a very delicate, but very grown-up rejection. Leaving everything else aside, I said that I loved my wife very much, and that nobody could ever replace her, and that I loved her, Hera, LIKE A DAUGHTER, and we would always be friends. That emphasis was very important. I was going to give her a little hug but then I thought that might complicate things, so I didn't. That's the best I can do, really. It's up to Karl and Sharon now.

 

Everybody is a bit tired because poor old Boolia is still teething. She has learned a new sentence: “it hurts!” I wish Mrs. A. was here, because I'd love to have something to rub on her gums. Felix was just the same, poor thing. Julia calls him “Feee”, which Felix finds very insulting.

 

 

11/5/6

 

Whatever is wished for, it shall appear. Mrs. A. does know something for Julia's teeth. They arrived last night, and she thoughtfully found it for us and prepared it. Julia went right to sleep. I imagine she must have been very tired.

 

Lee was too, so we didn't talk much before he went to sleep, but I had worried and worried about seeing him and I think I still am, but much more than that was the fact that he was here. The worry is much less than the love. That might make it harder, actually, given the decision. In fact, what I have to do is very hard, and it makes me feel awful and unsure. This is, in fact, perfectly reasonable, and analysis can be applied.

 

Pre-established facts: I cannot change any of Lee’s behaviour. He is not perfect and nor should he be. Even so, I very much need to address this one particular issue with him.

Tendency: I have a tendency to both idealise Lee and to be very disappointed and very confused when he does not meet that ideal. I prefer him to be the one who knows what’s right so he can tell me. I have a tendency to reduce Lee, his problems and his behaviours, to a force against which to compare myself.

Data generated by application of frameworks: My own judgement is actually relevant, both in the way I treat and respond to Lee, and in my judgement of the issue we are to discuss. Lee is just another human person, equivalent to me. I cannot predict the outcome of our discussion, but I am aware that there will be consequences and I will have to deal with them.

Supplementary process: Having both recognised and clarified the problem, I will now talk about it with my wife. She will talk about it with me because she loves me.

 

12/5/6

 

Lee still a bit dazed. Kara is fine, though. She must have the meat genes, although I understand they were a lot more careful with the balance this time. And they weren't going right over the mountains, so they took horses.

 

Rachel was in bed early last night, so the show-down between her and Mrs. A. happened this morning.  I had expected fireworks, but actually, there weren’t any. The thing about Mrs. A. that I am only now realising is that she has a fairly scientific temperament, and it actually speaks quite well of her that she has been able to, and has been interested in interacting with and learning from a culture that reflects what she tends to represent as the more baleful qualities of her own. I certainly understand what she and Lee see in each other (they are both hero types, really), and I certainly appreciate the way she treated me on our long walk home. That must have been very difficult for her – to accept that there was just no way I was going to do what she wanted me to do (that is, be helpful, useful, or in any other way not cry and be wretchedly sick.)

 

At any rate, it was Rachel who showed emotion, mostly by throwing herself on Mrs.’ mercy. Mrs. just looked at her, as if she were saying “I am not at all surprised to be right.” Then, she said (out loud), “you’ll work with me.” And then she left. Or, rather, she went outside for a bit. It’s hard to tell with Mrs. sometimes whether she has any feelings about anyone beyond interest or disinterest, but I think a lot of that is in response to what has happened to her over the past year or so. She can feel for people, and I have seen it happen. I’ve seen her feel for me, actually, and negatively. Besides, she lives with Lee, and she loves him. I know that because she was distraught the time he left. That’s one of the ways I know that.

 

More than any of this, though, I was looking at my wife. C. looked like she’d been waiting to see Rachel taught a lesson like that for a long time. She turned to the side and her face registered an extremely private and satisfactory pleasure. I don’t think she knew how closely I was looking, but I watched her wipe that look away, quietly, personally, before turning to Rachel and offering her some tea. That was extremely kind of her. C.’s problem with Rachel comes from the memory of her own faithfully committed crimes, and I certainly understand that, which is how I know it was kind. I want to tell her that, later. Perhaps when we are in bed tonight.

 

13/5/6

 

I did something last night that wasn't great. We were making out, getting ready to eat each other out and I slipped it in. She told me to take it out and I did and it didn't spoil the mood, but I did it because I want another child. I want to make something else that is perfect. That was really unfair of me, both because of her and because of the potential child. It is also indicative of the kinds of thinking I am attempting to avoid, which means I am probably obligated to speak to her about it. I feel a bit rotten for not having done it at the time, actually. But more than anything, I am confounded by the fact that I could do something like that so unconsciously, as if I had levels to my thinking that were not apparent to me in the moment, levels which retained things I thought I had decided to discard. It's like reading my diaries, in that what was most peculiar was how I would have part of a thought, some of it, not all of it. Several times I came very close, and I wonder if I did know then what I know now, and had forgotten, or whether all of them were parts of this same thought, which had yet to come. It also suggests that this, too, is part of a larger discovery I am yet to have. Either that or I am literally crazy.

 

 

14/5/6

 

Lee still quite wiped. He, Mrs., Karl and Sharon had drinks, though I didn't. C. kept me company, which was nice of her. I haven't actually ever spoken to her about drinking since, but somehow she had noticed. That's very thoughtful, and I should remember that, and remember to thank her. Especially since she would periodically put her hand on the small of my back, and rub there, just a little bit. That made it better, as if she knew that I was doing something that was hard, which I was, and which, presumably, she did know. I don't think Rachel was drinking either, but she was so quiet that I barely noticed what she was doing at all.

 

It seems they went further out, and South West. Mrs. didn't know those people, so it was all from the ground up. It sounds like it was quite similar to the place I went.

 

 

 

 

16/5/6

 

It was the right thing to do. He hit me once, in the jaw, and it hurt like holy hell. I didn't hit him back, because I can't, but also because I knew how much he needed to hit somebody.

 

 

 

 

 

 

18/5/6

 

The hardest thing to accept is that it is the cruelest thing I have ever said in my life, and in fact it may be my first ever consciously chosen cruelty, which means it is really mine. The fact that it was utterly, utterly true does not mediate that at all, but I have to accept it anyway. The next cruelest thing, when he understands this, will be the fact that Mrs. A. agreed. I said that Lee had made the wrong decision, and that that wrongness had come from the culture itself. That everything he believed in created the world that was unfolding, and that it was, or will be, genocide, and that our goal now, such as it was, had to be about mitigating damage, if it was even possible, and not about producing a perfect new world. I had said all of these things before, but what made him believe me this time was that I said that I knew why he was my friend.

 

Lee has barely spoken since our confrontation. My face hurts, but that is at most a minor annoyance, considering. Felix seemed concerned about it (it happened after he was in bed), which was very sweet. Hera too, which is a little worrying.

 

 

 

 

 

 

20/5/6

 

Today he apologised for hitting me. He came out while I was milking. It was a funny, extremely brief conversation. He said “I’m sorry for hitting you.” I said “That’s really alright, Lee.” He said “no, it isn’t.” And then he wandered away again. I’d like to have followed him but I doubt he wants to see me right now. He wasn't at dinner, and shortly after, Mrs. A excused herself and disappeared. She's not back yet. 

 

The good thing about having everybody here is that harvest will go quickly. We started this morning and it's already half done. As I have previously written, nearby would be good. Just not in my house forever. Resources are pushed as it is, for one thing, though obviously we've put in more.

 

21/5/6

 

I might want to, but I can't. She's allowed her own body, and she is the one who gets to make decisions about it. She said no, and I know why, and it is absolutely fair. One day, maybe, but not now.

 

22/5/6

 

Karl said, this afternoon, while we were eating, that it was unlikely to be long before it spread. I hadn't thought of it. Not because it isn't logical, just because I slip back into thinking of the farm as impervious. It probably isn't. No need to add the probably. It isn't.

 

Mrs. A. has started training Rachel. Lee still AWOL. One of the horses has gone, but Mrs. says he is fine, physically speaking, but he might be gone for a while. She sat next to me for a while today, after telling me this. She seemed sad, so I put my arm around her and she leaned against me, and, eventually, haltingly explained that she didn't know if she could manage being the kind of parent Lee was. She didn't ask me to help with Rachel, and I am grateful.

 

There is nothing wrong with her parenting. But I understand it is difficult to assimilate both Lee's Colonial approach and her Earther one. Personally, I'd be happy to take Kara for a little while so she could be with him.

 

23/5/6

 

C. beat me to it, thoughtful person that she is. Mrs. was gone by the time I came back from the well.

 

Karl and Sharon are leaving in a few days. I was going to go with them and help them find somewhere good for cultivation, because I have seen some, but it would mean leaving C. alone with Rachel. I trust her with the farm, of course, I just don't think she'd like it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

29/5/6

 

Travelling with Felix is possibly the best idea my wife has ever had. He takes to it well. He hasn't complained once today, and tonight, around the fire, he has started to draw pictures and write little descriptions of the new things he has seen. He let me kiss him on the head while I was looking at them. In fact, he didn't even notice. While we were riding today, the sensation of his body pressed up against me reminded me of when he was a baby. I am stronger than him, I understand, now. Probably not forever, but for some time to come. Karl and Sharon knew this already about their daughter, but I am learning it only now. At least I will know it for Julia, whom I already miss. Nobody has pulled on my beard today, or sat on my shoulders.

 

C. actually seemed glad that she would be alone with Rachel. Funny. Maybe she's just pleased to have a legitimate vacation from me. Fair enough, really. Excepting separation, cultural politics and attempted suicide, we have been living in each other's pockets for more than seven years.

 

30/5/6

 

Woke up a bit stiff. Getting old, obviously, but now I'm trying to remember how old that is. I don't think I have celebrated a birthday since well before the fall and the dates I have established since being here are arbitrary and almost certainly out of sync with our previous calendar. Forty something. I know that, and, also less than forty five. I think.

 

I was speculating about this out loud to Felix and he just said “really old, obviously.” I had to laugh.

 

 

 

 

 

 

2/6/6

 

Lee noticed the drinking, I recall. The next morning, after our first debrief, he'd noticed that I hadn't been. He talked to me about it, and he said it was good, and that I was probably right. It made me feel good. And then, two days later, I told him that nothing he could do would help anything, that events were out of his control, and that they should be. That his heroism was, in fact, the problem. At that point the ethics weren't so much political as personally necessary. Not because Lee might do something else wrong, but because he, Lee, needed to stop.

 

Both discussions brought up the same problem, and both times I had to process that. When he said that he approved of my not drinking, I had to think about it and tell myself that that was neither here nor there, because it was my decision. The same with the other thing. I had to accept that it was alright to not care. That I was, in fact, caring by not caring. It's actually much harder than math. Binary systems are easy, but people are very difficult.

 

 

 

 

14/6/6

 

Poor Hera cried when we said goodbye. I feel bad about that. I never meant to do that, whatever it was that patterned her into caring about me. I am sorry for it, and I regret it, but not knowing her. We will see each other again when I come out to assess their crops. I hope she will have forgotten about it by then. I won't have. Karl was right. It will spread, and by god I worry for her. More than that, I worry for Julia. I suppose, honestly, that that's the real reason I haven't been able to bow out. She's my daughter, and I want her to make her own choices.

 

Missing C. I hope she's having an alright time with Rachel the Intern. Everything I want to do for her is dramatic, and she was so powerfully correct when she called me on my desire to simplify it into large, easy actions. What I want to do is marry her, to have this one moment when I say everything that is so hard to say, a moment that makes up for all my terrible behaviour. And to keep on having babies with her. I might actually do these things, but not now. Now they are all tied up with trying to atone, but if I'm really going to do that, then what she really needs is space, and also, to not be pregnant. I have to be really sharp about her sacrificial nature. I have to watch for it, and I have to catch it, and I have to try, and think harder so she doesn't have to think for me.

 

Felix also likes puns, as it turns out. That's good, because I can make those.

 

15/6/6

 

Today's best lines:

 

Hurry up Felix, we'd better leave! (said while tickling his ear with a leaf.)

 

Stop horsing around! (Said while he was feeding the horse.)

 

Actually, that last one makes me recall the following: Horse walks into a bar. Bartender says: why the long face?

 

Might try that tomorrow.

 

 

 

 

 

16/6/6

 

So busy thinking about humans that I'd forgotten about everything else that lived here. Felix woke me up this morning, and the sun was already blazing. About 30 feet from where we were was a large cat. Huge, actually, and quite possibly the biggest I have ever seen. It had two long and very vicious looking incisors which protruded over its bottom lip. I have seen cats in the same arena of size before, but not like that. It regarded us for a long time, while we sat very quietly, before moving away, flicking its tail. I'd say we were very, very lucky.

 

 

 

 

 

18/6/6

 

I'm going to have to teach my son to kill. And my daughter, when she's older. They will have to know how to kill. I think I understand now, why they told me that killing made us human. Because death is out of our control, and, when we kill, we can pretend that it isn't. That's human, really. Not the actual action, but the thinking, the make-believe. What we do, humans, and our Cylon children, is pretend we have power.

 

The reason I think this is that I had to kill the cat. It had not gone away. Instead, it was stalking us, and it was either kill it or let it kill my son. I made a choice, and I killed the cat. But no real power is guaranteed to me by that act, just a momentary illusion of power, because it nearly killed me, and it might have. It wasn't the right choice either, it is simply the choice I made. I killed it, so Felix and I might go on living. We ate some of it, so at least it wasn't wasted, and then afterwards, we buried what was left, and I told Felix to show respect for that exchange of life. I didn't exactly pray, I just gave it thanks, the way the New Earthers do. I don't want him to think the exchange is simple, because it really isn't. In fact, it is the most complex thing I know. God might not care about that complexity, but I absolutely do. 

 

 

 

 

 

Hello Daddy.

 

The cat was big I am sad It was

 

alive

 

alive

 

alife alive

 

Tiger.

 

Tiger.

 

Wolfie was alive.

 

 

 

 

26/6/6

 

My remarkable wife, I swear. I don't know what she's done but we ran (or, rode) into Rachel as we were coming in today, and she was all smiles for, I think, the first time ever. I'd certainly never seen her smile until today. She and Julia were picking flowers, and she was telling Julia about them, and it was very nice, really. Julia squealed when I picked her up. I forgot she made a sound like that. It is adorable. I had missed her, and I had been thinking about her a lot, and about the future. I don't know how to mediate protecting her from harm and teaching her to be strong, but I suppose I will have to learn, because every alternative is appalling.

 

They walked us back to the house, where, apparently, the plan has changed. Lee is in full stride, as per his heroism, but there is a subtle change. Learning is the plan, and finding ways to preserve the knowledge, finding ways to keep communication open. Trips are being plotted. I was only half listening, because Felix was in desperate need of a bath and was tired enough to let me give him one.

 

So, Lee is back, then. Everybody is boiled up in a world of discussion (except me) so our first interactions were unremarkable, though he looks a bit rough around the edges. He's always been the sort to keep a trimmed beard and all that kind of thing and he's gone a bit wild man.  He'll talk to me if he wants to, though. When he wants to. Too tired to bother getting worked up about it, or involved with all this planning, even if I have questions to ask about it.

 

27/6/6

 

C. is very excited about everything that's going on. She's so smart, and this is really where she is the most skilful with that intelligence: thinking about god, or gods, and what god is, and what that means. She's a scientist, I suppose, but a different kind. She has asked me if I would be able to look after the children for a couple of months so she could travel with the Adamas. I said I could, of course, but she can't take that at face value, and I understand why. She says she feels like the last time I took a vacation from sanity was a breakthrough for me, and she's proud of me for not drinking, but I don't think she feels she can really trust me. I'd like to show her that she can.

 

Being without her for a couple of months I can manage. Not easily, but I can do it. It would be worth it, for her. Her face has actually changed, having something to think about that isn't me, or the children. Her eyes even sparkle, as trite as that reads. She has such a beautiful smile. It makes me want to grab her and do all manner of things to her, but much she's too excited about ideas to be interested in sex. We get into bed and she just talks. I'm trying to talk with her, but I can't keep up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

31/6/6

 

Had a smoke with Lee last night. He says that getting it wrong isn't an excuse to give up trying to get it right. It's in my best interests to agree with that assessment, obviously, but we argued a bit about how that should be done. It occurs to me to be annoyed that Lee keeps dragging me into an argument that I'm really not interested in, but it is only talking, and besides, he needs telling. He really has to realise that knowledge is just as valid as action. It wouldn't kill him to gather data and think about it. It hasn't killed him to finally understand that The Colonial Way's being ordained by god doesn't make it in any way ethically sensible, because one can't take god as an excuse to stop thinking, and if he can take that on board then I'm sure he can manage the rest.

 

It's much easier to write banal sentences like that than to write about what really happened. Funny. Not because that didn't really happen. I really did have a smoke with him, and we really did talk. But talking was only one thing that happened. There was another entire dimension to the conversation that wasn't said in words, and that was a conversation about whatever it is that's between Lee and I, in terms of friendship. I think we are still friends. Actually, I know we are still friends, and for that I am grateful, but I don't know what form that friendship will take now. We were negotiating that, I think. I wish I knew what I'd said about it when I wasn't talking. The biggest change is that I realise I really don't care what he thinks of me any more. I care about doing right by him, but I no longer care if he approves or agrees or thinks I am right. That's good, obviously, but it's difficult, because in some ways,  our dynamic hinged so much on my caring about that, and now, there's the curious concern that now maybe he cares about that about me. Best to nip that in the bud, really, because he shouldn't and it's probably not healthy, Issues With Daddy being what they are. He hasn't talked about where he was, or how he feels either and I think he should.

 

1/7/6

 

What is she keeping from me? I know it is something. She looked like she wanted to tell me last night but changed her mind. She and Rachel keep looking like I've interrupted a discussion I shouldn't have. Now that I reflect on it, our interactions have been funny in general, though I think I have been wilfully not noticing it because I am so glad to see her. Our first kisses were excellent, but it is strange that she hasn't wanted to have sex. Not not wanted. Just wanted to talk more than having sex. I think. 

 

I know the answer to the problem, though. Don't speculate in ~~your~~ my secret diary, like a little boy. Ask her, out loud, in the real world. It's not that hard to listen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5/7/6

 

She's right, though. I have been thinking and thinking and just waiting for a chance to write to write about this, preparing all of this rage and anger and hurt feelings and betrayal and everything else which is really just a cover for sadness but now that I'm here I have only one thought and it's that. She is right, right, right, and if I wasn't such a selfish bastard I would have known that immediately and not acted the way I did. Going away, being away from me and thinking about herself and spending time with other women – having friends! Only now, when I really think about it do I realise that she doesn't really have any friends. She gets on with Mrs. A., and Lee, but she knows them through me. And now Rachel, but that's complicated, and new, and, as she puts it “adoptively maternal”. She's never had any friends, even back in her glory days. She was on the outs from the other Cylons because of me and how she felt, and she never shows it if it made her sad. Maybe she isn't lonely, but she should have friends, or at least the chance to find out if she wants them or not. This is exactly what she should do and I am so proud of her for telling me that she was going to go anyway and I am proud of her for saying that she wanted a chance to really understand whether or not she actually wanted to be married to me. When she went away, before Felix was born, everything was too mixed up in guilt.

 

 

 

 

7/7/6

 

Preparing for C.'s trip makes me want to cry. I write trip. I mean exit. Or, maybe I do. She isn't sure. But I will see her again, in about two months, because she won't leave the children for longer than she has to. She was very clear about that part of it. It is not goodbye to Felix and Julia, and it's not even goodbye to me. It's only that it might be goodbye to being my wife. Maybe, though, and maybe not, because she doesn't know how she will feel. I want to ask her about every detail, to make her tell me now that when she comes back, we'll be together, but that's exactly what I shouldn't do. It is very hard to be noble. I am proud of her. That's what I have to remember and that's what I have to say. I am so proud of you, Caprica.

 

8/7/6

 

 ~~You're~~ I'm actually not going to cry. I'm not going to sulk either. No crying. No pathetic sarcasm. No other manipulative behaviour of any kind. Caprica is really going and that is really good. And if, when she comes back, she wants to live with me, I will know it is really true. And if she doesn't then I will live with it and I will be grateful for the time we've had.

 

I made her leave. I know that, and I know I could have made it easier. I know I could have been helpful and good and that everything could have been different. She says, she learned from me, and I suppose that is to the good.

 

 

 

 

 

 

10/7/6

 

Caprica was pretty close to Boomer, because they both loved humans. But she says she never thought in terms of friends, only duty. That is another reason she needs to go, frankly.

 

I have her as my wife for only one more week. Palatable countdown is making everything very intense. I want to write about it, if only so I can have it for the memories, to read over, but I don't know how. All of language is so shallow compared to the depth of her presence. I don't know if trying to have sex with her is right or not. We're sleeping in the same bed and I keep thinking there must be something I can say.

 

I took apart the still, though. I don't even want to be tempted to drink if on my own with children. Then, at the very least, if I fall off that wagon, I'll have to think about it for a few months before it comes to the crunch.

 

11/7/6

 

Lee has hesitantly suggested that he might stay behind. I tried to play it cool (as is my wont) but I think my obvious desire to not be bereft of adult company probably shone through. My strategy was to calmly agree that it might be good for him to have a break from the noble fight for a while, then keep on pruning while he contemplated out loud, in that way that he does. Lee is a pacer. He might pick up a knife and prune, I suppose, but it would be a shame to break the habits of a middle-class lifetime. Besides, he'd only frak it up. Caprica did it, when I was gone, so I've never shown him.

 

Caprica spoke to the children today. Julia is so young she took it easily, but Felix cried. He didn't cry when I left, as I recall. Just how much work has she done that I haven't acknowledged? That's a hard question to have to ask myself. But, I suppose I'll find out soon enough.

 

12/7/6

 

Caprica says she will always love me, no matter what happens to our relationship, and that will have to be enough.

 

Mrs. A put her arm around my waist today and bumped her hips up against mine, while I was was washing up. She knows I am sad and that it is hard to let Caprica go. I'm not letting her, she'd go anyway, but she, Mrs. A., is very thoughtful, sometimes. I wonder what she thinks about Lee's plans.

 

 

 

 

 

 

14/7/6

 

Lee and Kara are going to stay!  Thank frakking god. At least, after the kids are in bed, I will have someone to talk to. And it's good for him, really, because he's clearly losing it a bit, or has lost it. Didn't want to seem too pathetically happy so instead I'm writing it all down, but that's ridiculous. I should just tell him. He told me that, once, even. Sometimes one has to say things, when one means them, when they're true. I have seldom, if ever, told him how much he means to me, and he's been fairly upfront with me. I've written it, of course, but it's hard to say, out loud, to another man. 

 

I have told Caprica all of these things. If nothing else, she will know that I love her always and that this will always be her home. Even if it's not with me, she can always be here. She and I built it together and I will never forget that.

 

 

 

 

 

17/7/6

 

It wasn't a safe day so it was rubbing stroking and kissing and then we brought each other off with our hands and we both cried and her hand around me felt safe and precious and I will never feel that again. Instead I feel this. There are words and words and words and they are so inadequate for this terrible hurt. Fourteen years of sex and love and not sex not love and that was the last time. That was a real goodbye. It's not my body any more, it is hers. I have never had to work so hard not to beg. Saying goodbye was even harder. It took a long time for me to let go of her hand.

 

But Felix and Julia are worth all of it. That's what I have to remember.  Despite the fact that my heart has actually been ripped out of my body, I have two beautiful children, and they are worth every little bit of this.

 

 

 

 

20/7/6

 

Now, when I write, all I can think is that I should have grabbed her and held her and not let her leave, however right it was. I'd like to take it all back. I don't care about rightness, or how good it is for her, not when I will have to miss her forever as if I were only half a person and will never again be complete. She is the first person I ever loved and I didn't even know I loved her until the first time she died! She is my first love and she will be my only one and now she is gone and I don't know what to do.

 

I just never knew. I thought I did, but I didn't. She was always here and now she is gone. It isn't right. I have to be my own whole person and she has to be hers but I just don't care. I want her back and that's all I care about. It was very smart taking apart the still. Lucky I'm a genius or I might not have thought about it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

30/7/6

 

Lee has given me an hilarious nickname. He calls me The Saddest Motherfrakker On The Planet. Smug, middle-class bastard. Still, he puts his arm around my shoulder when he says it, and that's very nice.

 

He's slowly coming to terms with the fact that he failed, and that's very hard, so I think I'll let him have this one. And, obviously, it is accurate. I am the saddest motherfrakker on this planet, and any other. But I do and will and must and whatever it takes to be without her. She has gone for all the right reasons, and I have to give thanks for the complexity of that exchange. She is an amazing woman, and I am lucky that I even knew her, and grateful that I knew someone who was strong enough to make that decision, because I really couldn't, and she really was right.

 

 

 

5/8/6

 

Last night, when we were having a cup of tea and a smoke, Lee asked me if writing a diary was helpful. I said yes. I think he is finally getting ready to talk, so I started to tell him about what I had learned. I think he was listening for a while but then he sort of drifted off into his own thoughts. I thought he was just stoned so I stopped talking, but now that I reflect on it, I think he was really thinking. I might let him read mine, if he wants. Some of the descriptions of him are unflattering, but if he can live with genocide I'm sure he can live with being called a middle-class bastard.

 

I shouldn't joke about that, actually. For him, it's still a fresh wound. Sorry, Lee, if you are reading.

 

6/8/6

 

Lee says, it was watching Kara and Julia play together that he really started to understand. This is the world that we gave them. Our world. He says, he never stopped to think if it was the right one. Crimes committed in faithfulness are no less crimes, and I certainly understand that. He's very quiet these days and it makes me look back on the first days of our friendship. I thought he was so calm, and it's only now that I understand that he probably wasn't. He just didn't know how to talk. But he did know things, and I know this because he taught me a lot.

 

His mother was a drunk. Like my father. And, like me. She hit him. He didn't deserve it and nobody ever does.

 

7/8/6

 

He says we made a mistake telling stories about heroes. Felix was up late tonight, sore and irritable (I think he is having a growth spurt. Good.) and I was telling him stories and Lee says that made him think of it, because I was doing it without thinking, because those are the only stories I know. Lee says, he knows how to be a man, but not how to be a person and that was really the crux of the matter. We try and try and try to be something, and it's as if we have two options: to be something or to be nothing at all, and that really isn't it. We are alive and we die and that isn't being anything. It is an exchange. It certainly isn't heroic, and it certainly isn't villainous and the more we try to make it one of those things and not the other the more hurt we do to each other. He's a thinker, is Lee, and this is really becoming apparent to me. I think I loved him for being a hero but I have since changed my mind, because his intelligence is far more impressive than his strength. We need different stories, he says, because none of those stories are really true and that isn't what any of us really are. If we're going to tell ourselves stories at all, then they shouldn't be stories about heroes. He's right about that, at least, so that's something.

 

 

 

 

 

10/8/6

 

My parents are dead and I miss them.

 


	8. The God of the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caprica's Letters.

Gaius,

 

At the moment, I am travelling on my own. I don’t know why. A few weeks ago, I said I was going and took one horse. I rode for four days, making small fires at night, sitting near them until they burned down. Sometimes I cooked on them. But mostly, when they did burn down, I buried their embers in dirt and slept on the ground above, where it was warm. At dusk on the fourth day, I saw the sea. It was not, as you know, my first sea, but at your house, on Caprica, the water was cupped by hills, and here it is a limitless expanse.  It was the first thing I have seen since we arrived here that has really reminded me of space. Perhaps for this reason, I stood on the edge of it, unmoving, until the sun was gone. I think I wanted to be close to it when I slept.

 

It rains only seasonally in this area, so most of what we eat, besides root vegetables, comes directly from the sea. Sometimes we eat fish, which are caught with nets. I have done this fishing too, though I prefer shell fishing, which is rhythmic and precise and has no uncertainty. There is a pleasure in that accuracy, as there is pleasure in the correct execution of all rhythmic tasks.

 

The process is this: I was taught to find shellfish by running my hand under the rocks. They are rough too, like the rocks, so I feel for tiny jets of air where creatures are breathing. Each time is the same – I lay my finger in a straight line over the jets then slide the cutter along the plane of the rock. I feel something fall into my first hand, palm sized, occasionally with a popping sound. At first I drew them out of the water periodically, to examine them in the light, but I seldom do so any more. I know what they look like - black inside, glistening like wet rubber, the edges of their gastropod sucker curled up in affront. Each time, my partner takes it from me and places it into the net bag and we both resume feeling under the rock.  We keep this process going for almost an hour, every morning. When the bag is full, we stop, step off the outcrop, and swim through salty water back to shore. We cook them at the settlement, in an earthen bowl over a fire, which is covered with peppery leaves. Different things are mixed with the shellfish – a sweet potato, a kind of red fruit that is a little spicy. We eat the leaves too, usually.

 

I find that my skin dries quickly in the sun, but that my hair is too long.  It is still damp when we reach the settlement, so dries in the smell of cooking fires. Neither the smell nor the dampness especially bother me, but my hair is impractical, and that does. There is no reason to keep something that has no particular use.  Many women here keep theirs quite short, and I assume that a certain amount of sentimentality is the only thing keeping me from doing the same.  I think it has become symbolic to me – once I cut my hair, I will also be cutting away my marriage, accepting a temporary condition as permanent. In reality, the length of my hair makes no difference either way.

 

I don’t know why I’m writing this for you at all. It seems the correct response, though I doubt I will ever give this to you.

Caprica

 

 

 

 

Gaius,

 

Sometimes I feel grateful to Laura Roslin. I don’t think I would have thought so hard about necessary things if I hadn’t been in prison.

 

This comes only through extensive reflection. Sharon disagreed with me, last year. She told me that Laura was a racist, and that she, Sharon, would spit on Laura’s grave if she knew where it was. Sharon told me that she would never forgive her. But that it suited me to do so, because I was a martyr.

 

You said that to me too. But I think you blame me for it.

 

Caprica Six

 

 

 

 

Gaius,

 

I miss you today. In response to this feeling, I have been internally cataloguing all the times I have fought with you. There are many.

 

Do you remember this fight? You probably don’t. It wasn’t anything much. Felix was in bed – it was before Julia - but the day had been hard. We’d fought about yields, and I had given you some suggestion that you took the wrong way. I was cooking. You were writing, or drawing something, and it was very pointed. I knew you wanted me to talk to you, to ask you. I didn’t want to. I was frustrated with you, because I felt as if you were being overly demanding, when so many things had to be done. It seemed as if you were doing it on purpose. But I was cutting vegetables only a few feet from you and the tension started to become difficult to ignore. So, I said, “alright, what are you doing?”

 

You put down your pen and folded your arms. “If you must know,” you said, as if you hadn’t intended for me to ask, “I am trying to figure out what I would have done about this before I was so thoroughly domesticated.” I knew I didn’t have to say anything, that you would speak anyway, and you did.

 

“I’m fairly certain,” you said, “I would have slept with someone else. I would have gone out, and found some willing young thing and taken her home. And then you and I would have had a nice big fight about it and I’d have felt guilty and it would have been my fault again, and that’s how we both like it.”

 

I wanted to protest, because you had given a needlessly outlandish response, but more than that I just wanted you to stop talking, because I was busy. So I kept cutting. I imagine I rolled my eyes.

 

“Don’t start a discussion if you don’t mean to go on,” you said. “Don’t lie to me and pretend you do. You horrible, horrible bitch.” It seemed to come from nowhere, and you knew you shouldn’t have said it. The room was audibly silent for me then, ringing as if after a storm. Ten thousand answers boiled and erupted inside me, but none of them would come out of my mouth. Each one of them seemed as if they would take me in a direction I did not want to go. I felt my hand tremble on the knife. The muscles were fine, precise, perfectly articulated, purposeful.

 

“Sorry,” you said. You put your head in your hands. “I’m sorry,” you said, again. I knew you were tired. We were both tried, but you are human, and I knew, I tried to remind myself that this was so much harder for you. I walked over to you and put my hand on the back of your neck. You told me you’d been angry with me for something and it had got out of hand because you thought I wasn’t listening to you. It hurts you not to be listened to. You assume that nobody ever wants to, and you take being ignored as proof. So I listened then. I was so angry with you, but I listened, and as I did this, the anger fell away. My hand – my same hand – softened. It became just a hand. It lay against your neck without explicit purpose.

 

But today I wonder if the anger really fell, or if I just placed it somewhere else. What I realize is that I don’t know how to be angry with you. Not without making a decision of some kind. Leave you. Hurt you. Something like that. I wanted to kill you, do you understand that? It was over nothing, but I wanted to kill you, and I could. If I chose to, I could.

 

This really was an innocuous fight, in the end. I think we had resolved it by the time we were in bed. But I tell you because you make the mistake of thinking that you are the bad one, and that all my reasons are rational. I think this is accurate - the truth is that they were. But what you don’t understand is that this never made me right. You know how to be wrong by accident, but you don’t know how it is to choose the wrong thing.

 

Caprica

 

 

 

 

Gaius,

 

I wonder about this. I travel, as if I had no people, and so it was alright to come, with my own opinions and my insistence and ask to learn everything. I do have people, and it matters to me.

 

You said, years ago, that we should tell the children about us, and this is what I want to do: tell them about my family, because it is important. That will be some of who they are.

 

My name matters to me too. Lineage matters. I hope you will understand. Though in the end it doesn’t matter if you do or do not.

 

Caprica Six

 

 

 

Gaius,

 

Karl said to me, when I saw him;

 

“We’re both used to space. What I especially remember about the sea is when I went fishing off the continental shelf in a little craft, like a catamaran. The body of the boat was mostly flat like this, like a raft, with a catamaran shape underneath, and two sails. It was big enough only for me, and three others. One person is in charge of the sails and the other two are net pullers, and my role was to provide additional strength where it was needed. Nobody is the particular navigator on these crafts because everybody can navigate. Nobody is allowed on the craft unless they can do that, because if everybody else dies, the last person should still try to bring in the catch. I knew the area okay by then and I knew the stars enough to get a basic direction, but what I really had to know were the currents, and I didn’t know them that well, but I wanted to learn, and I think it was okay because I had showed that I _can_ learn, and I wasn’t trying to be rude.

 

This was a long way North of here, and East. There is a sea right at the North of this continent, which is shallow and mild, and I went there, but this particular place, there is a neck of continent that is between two seas and I was to the south of that and we sailed until we were in real ocean. I remember we were drifting along, almost aimlessly, though I know it wasn’t really aimless. And then the wind got up, the sails cracked out, and we just skimmed, tiny and buoyant, out across something unfathomable. Grey, you know, and deep, and stretched out, somehow. Like skin. This whole time, we were under the widest sky. It stretches all of the way around the planet, the sky. And I know about that now.”

 

I remembered the whole speech because I thought you would like it. I did, I liked hearing it. I don’t know why my liking it would mean you would. Maybe I’ll give these to you after all.

 

Maybe we’ll talk about usefulness.

 

Caprica Six

 

 

 

 

Gaius,

 

In your culture – and in mine, which is, as you have observed, reflective of yours – doing laundry was, I realize, somehow a sign that I am weaker than you, even as I took that responsibility because I am physically stronger and was able to keep up the endurance it required. It’s a strange thing. I think by Colonial rationale, the machine part of me, because I am strong and competent, is like a man, but because I am required to read psychology, to comfort and manipulate, I am like a woman (or vice versa.) But it is always a little false to read things this way, isn’t it? 

 

I think of this because I am powerful here, because of my body. I am here with the Adamas, and because it was appropriate, I took off my shirt and felt fine. I was reminded of the homes I had known, but also, strangely, and contextually, it was powerful. The parts of my body that I only sometimes think about became important – places where it is still soft, where the machine has been unable to reconcile its confusion from the production it went through to make Felix and Julia. These became recognizable signs of having been a mother, of having given life. Here, men do the killing and women do not, and this colours the women sacred and the men profane. That simple.

 

This is a strange picture of men. I was so used to you, and your emotional frailty, and because of this I wonder how it is for them. There was no anger from the men, none that I can see, but it must exist – because of what happened in the village, and because of what you said about oligarchy, and about power. In the last settlement, there was a person of intersex, which made them some kind of priest. Their life seemed privileged, but it also seemed isolated. And this was the only person with these qualities I have seen, and I do wonder about that.  There must be others, so where did they go? There are no intersex Cylons either. We were made to reflect human ideas of gender, in a crystalline fashion, to work in umbilicus with human anxiety. What use an intersex Cylon by this rationale? Likewise, my body is powerful here, but only my body.

 

This is complicated. The more I am here, the more I find it complicated. These people aren’t some thing to be preserved. But at the same time, I understand what you’ve said – the virulence of the colonial machine, you called it. It was artificially intelligent, it had the power to replicate. Being here, I wonder, am I symbolic of somebody’s decline?

 

Take a bite of the apple, won’t you? It’s delicious.

 

Caprica Six

 

 

 

Gaius,

 

Sometimes I think I love you because of the incongruity between the man I imagined and the person you are. You commented on my faith so many times, and upon what you had termed as “a subset… no, that isn’t right. Rather, I would consider it a structural underpinning.” You had become interested in figuring me out. Decisions, you told me, tended to stay made once I made them. It’s true. They tend to alter me fundamentally, or I wouldn’t bother.

“I used to think I was like that,” you said, “but I’m not. I decide quickly, and then I analyze and everything’s wrong with it and I have to start over. But you work evenly, very precisely.”

“Like a machine?” I like to tease you about these things, but you didn’t notice this time.

“If you want,” is what you said. “Which I think, for humans, is analogous to self-confidence. We are confident when we work well, and vice versa. When our thinking and all of the… other bits… are instinctively contiguous.”

I told you that you had obviously been thinking about this a lot.

“No, but I’m thinking about it now,” you said. “Humans _are_ machines, of course. We are biological ones, social ones, but we operate according to a set of established parameters.” 

I told you that I thought your existentiality was good for me. I wasn’t pregnant yet. This was the beginning of that time.

“Do you know,” you said, “I think you’re the only person I’ve ever known who is as smart as I am.”

I laughed at you because I didn’t believe it, or at least, I didn’t quite believe that you believed it. Your thinking, and your “other bits” were _not_ instinctively contiguous at all, and you trust me because you think I am _not_ as smart as you. But I think – or rather, I hope - that you are becoming more contiguous all the time. Shortly afterwards you told me you weren’t going to pull out, that you wanted a child with me.  

 

Caprica Six

 

 

 

 

Gaius,

 

Today is about true confessions. There is so little speech in my life and so, for some reason, all of the things I have never said feel as if they are right next to my skin, as if they are swelling inside me. It is physical like that, a completely physical feeling; I am something stretched, a glass shell of experience. And there are cracks in me!

 

I remember with Saul Tigh, and how quickly I abandoned everything. I drew a line, immediately, around simply baring his child and presenting a fascimilie of love. I did love him. I was pregnant by him, so I had to. And I loved Liam so much, but Liam had never been born. I waited in sickbay for such a long time, but Saul Tigh had never asked me what we were going to do next, because he never came. Without Liam, I was valueless. I had understood this instantly, so was surprised, even fascinated, that somewhere under the blunt emptiness that had followed Liam’s departure, there was a sharp, blossoming puncture where Saul Tigh had been.

 

But the war had fallen down around me. It required my focus to narrow. Required me to reset everything. And then new feelings came, and such strange bodily things, and I was required to think, intently, about whether this was programmed or whether this was really me, whether God wanted my baby. Whether Liam was, as Laura Roslin had suggested, “important.” Clearly he hadn’t been. Did I want to give up being important? Is that why he died inside of me? Did I want to be different, outside of things? Had you done that to me? I blamed you. But everybody else was stupid. Everybody else was simple minded, and stupid.

 

So I thought then about the difference, if any, between programming, heavenly directive or free will when it came to predicting or deciding upon a course of action.  There is so little meaningfulness to these distinctions. They exist only to privilege a certain kind of consciousness, or the perception of it. You should know this. You are under the continued illusion that I am somehow especially insightful, but you’re wrong. I simply recognize algorithms where I see them. I am able to intervene in your patterns as I do my own, and there is a satisfaction in that. I tell myself, somewhere in these patterns is the God I am looking for. Somewhere between us, and these children we’ve made.

 

You are the only person who understands this. You are the only person I can tell. You are a collapsible man, a frail assemblege, but you are also, in these moments, able to forget yourself and be kind. You don’t know this. You only see the constructions you make for yourself, but I see the machine that makes them. I feel you assemble against me, and this matters. Something about you matters to me far above and beyond any interest I might have in destiny.

 

Caprica Six.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gaius,

 

 

I remember you used to like to watch D’anna penetrate me. You liked it when she put her fingers up inside me. I sometimes used to wonder about you in those moments. You didn’t want to do it, you wanted to watch her do it.

 

I remember your reaction to your first failed yield. You were desolate. Like a blown open field. I didn’t know that a person could be tied together with a place, the way you were. I didn’t know that it was yours.

 

I also remember that I never gave you the notes on your Ph.D. I read it in preparation for meeting you, but was drawn in enough to annotate it. We’ll talk about it when I’m home, if you’re interested.

 

Caprica Six.


	9. Chemistry or Physics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drifting isolation, and travel.

7/8/7

 

“I want the colours in the sky,” says Kara, up past her bedtime, while the sun was setting. Lee's right. An artist is what she will be, or is.

 

Bedtime is very competitive here. We were lucky the others were asleep because whoever is still in bed will inevitably protest the unfairness of it all and it goes on forever. Even Julia, who is barely old enough to recognise an unfairness. I think she copies Felix, who sometimes seems unaware of how much she looks up to him. He was grumpy with her for days when she got Goaty to eat out of her hand – he didn't really recognise that the only reason she cared about the goat was because he did. 

 

 

 

 

10/8/7

 

Lee! I am leading by example. See? Writing things down is not hard, really. Keeps one sane. Sort of.

 

Please stop shuffling around like an old man! It's time to snap out of it, if only temporarily. The field needs hoeing and one of us will have to do the dad thing – you can pick who does what. The point is: work now, angst later.

 

 

11/8/7

 

Felix fell on his ass today while trying to get up a tree. It's not the first time this has happened and nothing is broken but I think he hurt himself pretty badly, because he's been quiet and teary since it happened, which is unusual. He's never been much of a crier, and it's got even less as he's got older. I think there will be quite a bruise. 

 

He's the tiniest bit uncoordinated, is Felix. He must get that from me.

 

 

 

 

 

20/8/7

 

Realised today that I no longer think it is shameful to mourn the dead, and to be honest about it, and I think that is thanks to our conversations, more than anything else. Thank you, Lee.

 

The funniest thing, and the thing I am so continuously surprised by, is the fact that one moment never resolves everything. I always think that, even though I know it isn't true. I am so used to thinking of myself as clever enough to solve something by thought. I didn't know that thought and understanding were different. This is the thing about grief – that it comes in so many different ways and not all of them are bad. Some of them are respectful, and some of them make me aware of life. I am glad I know someone who was competent to teach me how to grieve.

 

21/6/7

 

I find it a little unsettling that I ever thought it was shameful, actually. Because of my father, probably. But also because owning up to one thing means everything else is true too. I really regret the way I treated him, when he was older. If I knew then what I knew now, it would have been very different. Sometimes I imagine that. I think they would be proud of me, now, both he and my mother. And the reason I know it is because it doesn't matter to me if they are. At least, not always. Sometimes it does. It probably always will, a little, but the trick is to be aware of it. That's not something I want to pass on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

25/8/7

 

I miss Caprica! Noticed today just how much both of our children have her in their face. They miss her too. We're really going to have to work out a better plan than what we're doing, because it's too hard on them. We could live together without being together, possibly. I think I could do that. I like being with her in a lot more ways than romantic. She comes home with interesting stories, and she thinks everything right down to its smallest parts.

 

Last time she was here, she and I slept together in the same bed, which made a nice change from having to sleep on the couch (I do this to be gallant. It hurts my back, but the good guy points are one hundred percent worth it.) The funny part was we didn't even talk about it. It just happened. We didn't have sex (though we did the previous time), but it didn't really matter. I have become a champion wanker over the last year, which I suppose will have to sustain me, because I doubt I'll sleep with anyone else in the years I have left.

 

Did I really just write that? Was that the hand of Dr. Gaius Baltar, Ph.D, M.D.? (if you've made it to this point, Lee, it's not the hand I wank with, so don't get upset.) Indeed it was, and it was the actual truth. I have become a one woman man, even if my solitary fantasies involve a pantheon. I have a good one which I've been working on which involves a rotating cast of hotties and a little bit of domination. But in real life I am too old and too tired to do the pre-coital dance with someone I don't already love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

30/8/7

 

Can't drift along without making a decision, however tempting that is. Caprica has been back three times since her original departure, and as far as I am aware, she returns again in a few days. I think it is somewhat foolhardy of me to just leave it as it is, questions unasked, and consequently unanswered. I want her in my life and I want her near me and I'm quite happy for that to be on her terms, but it's not just me in the equation.  I think I've been so quiet about it all because I don't want her to say no.

 

Karl said, last time I was out there, that losing her patriotism had been very hard for her. It had never occurred to me to think of her as a patriot, but that is what she was. I think, reflecting back on it, that I had allowed my lack of racism to obscure the fact that she had her own allegiances. I assumed she had an allegiance to life, but it was more complex than that. She believed in her people. Belief is tough, really (Really? No! Lee should call me “Dr. States The Obvious” instead of his standard S.M.F.I.U. It would be much more accurate. I'm not sad any more. I'm not anything any more. But, not a bad not anything. Just a sort of inevitable feeling.)

 

Writing about Karl made me remember this: I think Felix has a little crush on Hera. Frak! Sex! Are we really going to have to go through that minefield too? He's only five, so sex is a long way off, but he'll get there eventually. He's going to get older! (... and Dr. States The Obvious strikes again!)

 

1/9/7

 

Lee says, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. He seems a bit better today. Coming out of his latest funk, I think. We talked a lot last week about politics and everything and our gift of patriarchy, and I think the fact that all of it will take time, and that, possibly, it's not forgone (especially now that he's pulled out of it) sustains him a little. Whatever it takes, really. I tend to reassure him that he is still a good man, and that he always was. It amazes me how comfortable he is with death. I think he felt all those deaths in one big whack and now they have been processed. Some of the stories are horrible. During Felix Gaeta's mutiny, for example, he and Kara Thrace shot two crew members, and then laughed about it, stepping over their bodies. He got blood on his boots. Something like that would bother me for a long time. Stories about heroes are complex. It's only if you're on the hero side that that's ever alright. It bothered him too, and even more than me, but he is who he is.

 

Cleaned house, so as not to appear useless when Caprica gets home. We are both very lazy about that. It's women's work, after all. He's a better cook than I am, though. Felix takes after him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3/9/7

 

I told her, when she returned after her first voyage, that I was an utter fool to consider her mothering natural. Not because the instincts aren't, but because it takes work! It really does! She seemed more grateful for this recognition than any other thing I'd ever said or done, and that is utterly fair enough, because I was such a bonehead not to notice. Julia is very clingy at the moment, which makes it hard to work. She wants to be held all the time, and not by Lee. It has to be me. I don't understand why, though possibly she misses her mother. 

 

I do trust him, though, and he does know what he's doing. ~~Except for when he~~  IT'S NOT THE END OF THE WORLDS. IT'S JUST A FRAKKING FARM.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gaius,

 

I have been thinking about what you said. I am trying to make this note resemble my speech, and give it the approximate emphasis that it would have if I were speaking. It is difficult for me to write as a means of personal expression, though I am aware you tend to prefer it to speech.

 

Previously, I have regretted our involvements on the grounds that you have made me aware of myself, and have made me question myself. I have cherished them too, as sometimes that process had interesting results, if not beneficial ones. Sometimes, it has made me dislike myself. Sometimes the two processes were not mutually exclusive, though often I have had difficulty in distinguishing which parts of my dislike were justified, useful, or necessary. This has been an extremely mutual process for us, which you seem reluctant to accept. In fact, sometimes it seems that you forget that I am equally culpable for many of the actions undertaken in our lives. I think sometimes I am angry about that.

 

For example: Rachel Macen resented me as much as she did you. You might have been a very terrible human president (which is difficult for me to judge) but I am a Cylon. Our people were at war for several years. On New Caprica, the occupation that you failed to resist was an occupation I was part of. I am aware that you know this, because we have talked about it, and many times, but I think, emotionally, you forget this. It seemed, for example, when you were counselling me about my relationship with Rachel, that you actually weren't aware of our racial or cultural tension. This lack of awareness in you is both a flaw and a quality, in that it tends to prevent you from making distinctions between peoples, but rather to view them as variable. I want you to understand that: that is one of the reasons that I love you. You are like no-one else I have ever met. You view everything about people on a existential level, even if you are able to consider people as forces. The difference between those two states is their proximity to you. 

 

I have, I know, altered radically since I have been forced to consider the actual consequences of physical femininity. Being aware of my body in the way that I have been since our relationship began is something about which I have had to consider a great deal. I am still not entirely sure of my conclusions, but I am sure of the fact that I love you very much and I'd like for us to consider reforming our relationship, but I would like it to be reflective of the changes we have both made. I am not sure if this is possible and I would like to know what you think.

 

I occasionally speculate about the impact of the fascimilies of each other that we saw for several years. Is it possible we still think of each other as angels? Our observed qualifications for holy office are likely to vary, but I think we have both let each other behave in ways we find unpleasant because of this secret recognition.

 

I love you,

Caprica

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Darling,

 

You write perfectly well, and thank you. I don't so much prefer it to speech as get less defensive and stupid because I'm required to actually think about my responses, and that, perhaps, is conducive to this discussion.

 

Everything you have written about us is absolutely right, and I apologise for the parts of it that are mine. You're right that the process has been mutual: you love me because I made you human and I love you for the same reason. Can we ever really be just two people when we've made each other into fallen angels? Short answer: No. Long answer to follow.

 

What I want to do is rely on this false notion of selflessness and say I really am just too awful of a person to get past my fundamental selfishness and self involvement and so you and I should be apart, with my blessing, but that's just an excuse really. Considering my selfishness as fundamental is false, and lazy. What it comes down to is the fact that I seldom think about you, except when I am thinking about sex. That isn't right. I think about you all the time but I'm starting to realise I don't really think about YOU, instead I think will Caprica like me?, and that's related to a variety of other problems, and I'm hesitant to leap back into your arms because I'm tired of mediating that and I'm tired of loathing myself as a result. I am tired of our relationship, and for similar reasons as you. You have always struck me as the complete opposite of selfish, but perhaps that's just as bad. Equally, though, I miss you so much that I want to die, so, even if it is the worst idea in the world and even with all the above caveats, I am in love with you, apparently forever. You challenge me too, and you make me consider. You won't let me have lazy thoughts. You take things seriously. You are very loving, to everyone around you, and the world in general, so I worry that you love me against your better judgement.

 

I can bring something to the table, also. I can be aware of your body for you. We could go back to casual frakking. No we couldn't. You're the mother of my children and the first person I ever loved. This whole letter is a mentally unstable write-off. Then again, so I am I.

 

Gaius. 

 

 

 

 

 

Gaius,

 

I appreciate both your wit and your innuendo but I would much rather you considered the question.

 

I love you,

Caprica.

 

 

 

 

Caprica,

 

Is conflicted a feeling?

 

PS: What's happened to all of Felix Gaeta's books?  Can't find them anywhere.

 

 

 

 

Gaius,

 

No, it isn't. It is a response to having feelings which conflict with each other. If it helps, please feel free to describe the feelings in an attempt to understand them, as I presume you had begun to do previously before derailing yourself. I want to have sex with you too, but I feel it would be highly inappropriate as we are yet to resolve our relationship situation and I am unwilling to be drawn into an uncertainty. Please feel free to engage in masturbation, as I am.

 

Is it possible to locate whether resuming our relationship would make you happy, or sad?

 

Lt. Gaeta's books are in the case under the bed.

 

I would be grateful if you would take Felix and Julia out tomorrow morning as everything needs cleaning.

 

I love you,

 

Caprica.

 

My dear, if this is going to stay academic, you are not allowed to tell me about the nasty things you do to yourself. That is really not fair and I was awake for hours last night thinking about it and you're mean.

 

 

You look beautiful today, by the way. 

 

xx G.

 

 

 

Gaius,

 

I realise I am trying to manipulate you a little because I am not entirely sure what I want from you and so I apologise. I am beginning to suspect you are using the same approach. Are you?

 

Sex is not nasty, though. Personally, I enjoy it very much.

 

 

 

 

Yes.

 

I'll pretty much write anything to get you into bed, because you are sexy. You are correct in identifying nasty as inaccurate, because sex with you is very nice. I know I should care a lot more about the other practicalities but I just don't. I just want you.

 

 

 

 

 

13/9/7

 

I miss the notes. And, once was not enough.

 

Our conversations over the last couple of months have tended to run toward Issues with Mummy so Lee is competent. He says, if I could take my own advice I would be a model of stability. I said, thank you, Oh Wise One, I am awed by your insight and we had a good laugh. I'm going to miss our evening smoke and chat when Mrs. A gets back, because they'll have to decide where they're going to live. As far as I know, they are still totally together. He says, he's been too bowled over by everything to really think about it. She clearly loves him, though.

 

As for Caprica, yeah, so I love her and I know I should but sort of don't care about the rest of it. Nothing else is simple, and there's no reason why this should be. Like when one flips a coin and knows the answer regardless of the outcome. I love her and I want her (badly) and whatever problems we have are presumably subject to negotiation. I'm going to get to hold her hand! I am so tempted to call myself pathetic for that desire, but I'm not. It is perfectly reasonable.  She has two very nice hands.

 

14/9/7

 

Fantastic decision making. Just fantastic.  I think I actually thought by letting her go I'd got over everything but apparently not.

 Julia said, today, where is mummy? And in such a way. Caprica was only outside, but it's so   complicated because I don't know that I could stand to live with her if we weren't together and it makes the kids worry. Why can't I just get over it?  

 

15/9/7

 

Because I haven't addressed it, of course. Lee and I have unpacked it every which way but it's not the same.

 

She says she likes that I am emotional, but she finds it exhausting when I'm dishonest about it. When I do that horrible sarcastic thing that I do because someone wants to make me feel better because I am so aware of not deserving it. Like, shall we say, the general pattern of our relationship whenever I'm less than fully cognisant of what I'm doing. I sometimes have memories of New Caprica and recently I arrive at them almost wholesale. I remember her trying very hard to be kind and me trying very hard to make her regret it. I remember her slipping on her panties and trying to leave and me pathetically begging her to stay so I could be cruel to her some more. We were a terrible mix back then – Self Righteous Martyr, vs. Self Loathing Nihilist, masochist and sadist respectively (or possibly vice versa?) I'm not doing that right now, because I'm not quite the catastrophic jerk I once was, and she's not the person who would stand for that kind of nonsense any more, but the feelings underneath are virtually identical and almost certainly headed in the same direction.

 

 

 

 

 

17/9/7

 

It's very sad that your mother died.

 

Hello! What?!

 

Do you know that?

 

Why the change of heart? I thought you didn't weren't going to do this any more.

 

I want you to remember this. I would like to provide you with something you are able to refer back to. Do you know that it is sad? I think it's very sad thing that your mother died when you were so young. Do you know that?

Somehow, I am not conveying this knowledge?? Of course it is sad. A dead mother is a dead mother is a dead mother. It's wholly universally sad and not even specific to me.

 

You were only ten years old, but today you seemed to be making fun of yourself and you were being somewhat sarcastic, in the way you are when you don't think you deserve sympathy. I wonder if you require it to be legitimised, because it is legitimately sad. 

 

No, it's just that she died thirty years ago. Can we please bring the discussion back to sex? I'm uncomfortable associating those two subjects.

 

I was not aware that they had been associated.

 

 ~~By being in the pile with all our other notes!~~ Frak, I just put my neuroses right on display, didn't I.

 

They're better there than in your head!

 

You are, in fact, one hundred percent right. I have Issues With Mummy, and sometimes I am horrified that you get all wrapped up in them.

 

Is this a conversation for out loud? It seems too complex for paper.

 

Yes. Later?

 

 

 

 

 

19/9/7

 

I thought of you when we were travelling in the south.

 

I like it when you pass me notes. It's like having a crush at school. Why did you think of me? Do you want to go for a walk or something and talk?

 

No. This is fun. Because the women were topless there as well.

 

Did you go topless too?

 

Of course!

 

That's very sexy. Did you like it?

 

It was freeing. It reminded me of being on a basestar. I thought of you then, when you didn't know where to look.

 

I didn't there either! I got over it, but it took a while.

 

That's why I thought of you. I imagined being you. It was very funny.

 

My suggestion: why not try it at home? (the topless part, not pretending to be me.) Did you learn lots?

 

Yes. I wonder if the idea of men and women is simply a description of two different halves of god.

 

What is god, then?

 

A natural force, as you said, as if conscious beings were being looked at from above, but the consciousness was made from us, rather than in the traditionally perceived order.

 

Not all species reproduce through sex.

 

Then there would be other parts of God, or those parts would be reflective of a broader thing that they were part of.

 

Polytheism?

 

No, just threads in a tapestry.

 

I don't think I understand.

 

Yes you do. It's only strings.

 

Making us what?

 

The things that are connected by what it is, and part of it, also.

 

Alright. But one could study that without calling it god.

 

Definitely! But they would all be the same thing.

 

Then where do the things we saw come from?

 

Perhaps it was us, thinking ahead. Perhaps it was only a shared hallucination? Perhaps we both had the ability to manipulate, or be manipulated by it. 

 

I wonder (and consider that the latter is more likely.) Maybe it's just another being?

 

It could be that too. But the ideas still mean something.

 

I'm so afraid god will talk to Felix or Julia.

 

It won't. We're on our own now.

 

I wish I was as certain of that as you are.

 

Did you check on them?

 

While you were getting changed. They were both fast asleep.

 

I'm quite tired too. Would you like to come in the bed with me tonight?

 

YES.

 

 

 

 

 

21/9/7

 

I think I still hate myself.

 

Why?

 

Because of everything.

 

The defence network? 

 

Yes, but before that, really.

 

Is this an out loud conversation? We can go into the bedroom while they're eating. 

 

Can we keep writing it, please?

 

You're still ashamed to talk.

 

Not really. Just about this. I'm very ashamed of this.

 

Why?

 

Because I know the answer to the problem so I should have solved it, it's just very hard to do.

 

You're better at it than you think you are.

 

Thank you.

 

You have a harder time with this than I do. You find things hard to accept. Belief made it easier for me.

 

That's not totally true, though. You didn't like it when you had to consider that belief could control you in that way, that belief could contradict other beliefs. You said you sometimes envied me for my lack of faith.

 

That's true. It's hard for both of us in different ways.

 

Do you ever hate yourself?

 

Yes. After the miscarriage.

 

Honey! Why?

 

Because it was my fault.

 

It was not your fault. It was nobody's fault. It was just a very sad, very random natural event.

 

Or God needed to tell me something.  That we didn't love each other enough.

 

No. I accept no judgement on our love but our own. And god's plan pertains to much larger events than us.

 

You don't know that.

 

I absolutely do.

 

This is belief?

 

If that's what it takes. Or, the other thing. Any god that makes itself known like that is no friend of mine. Not your fault.

 

You don’t understand. I didn't love you enough.

 

Caprica, if we are to judge by behaviour, you love me about as much as is ~~hum~~ Cylonly possible. If you occasionally have thoughts of knifing me in my sleep, I do not blame you, and you are forgiven. Unless there's something you need to tell me?

 

No.

I didn't want to be just a container for your babies.

I'm sorry.

 

No. That's fair enough. I wouldn't either. Still not your fault.

 

Thank you.

 

My fault, actually, because I did make you feel like that. You have to know you're not. I loved you first. Because of you, and not because of your reproductive potential. I didn't even want any children, at first. I just wanted you.

 

To take care of you! It seemed as if my whole personhood was directed toward or constructed around reproduction, or mothering. It was dysfunctional and I had nothing else to do or to be. There is no war, and there is unlikely to be one I will agree with completely any more. I only have two functions and one of them is over and the other was not working!

 

You have more than two functions, Caprica. You were a very good general, and you are a very good mother, but you are also a very good person. You must have been very sad.

 

I was very sad! But being a good person is not the point.

 

Then what is?

 

Being a complex person. Being a person without a design. God wants me to do something, you want me to be something, Ellen and Saul wanted something, too. All the evidence suggests I exist for a reason, but I’m not sure if I am doing it. And I am not sure if I want to. And I consider that this is incongruous.

 

I don’t know what to write! I think being good is the point for me.

 

I know, Gaius.

 

I want to understand this, that you’re different from me. But I feel terrible that you blame yourself.

 

I do agree with what you've written, and for the most part I blame myself only when I don't consider logically. However, you can't feel terrible. You have enough, and this belongs to me. This is my feeling, and I will understand it. I don't need you to make it disappear. I need to examine it, and make sense of it.

 

You're quite awe-inspiring sometimes. But I'm not going to rest on fault. You are my darling and it is not your fault.

 

I do know that.

 

I love you, Caprica. I love you for so many reasons, not all of which are sick. I am so sorry. Mostly for being so continuously sorry! Or, for having to be.

 

You are a hard person not to love, Gaius.

 

I think, dear, that your hypothesis lacks sufficient evidence. However, the compliment is taken.

 

I do love you.

 

I do know that, I think. ~~In spite of~~ ~~But I don’t~~ I want you to tell me these things about yourself. Under your own initiative.

 

I know L

 

It doesn’t have to be out loud.

 

 

 

2/9/7

 

 

It can't just be about the (fantastic) sex, though. She told me it was a two way exchange, the mothering. She's right. And vice versa. I can't think of her as better than me. I know she isn't. Just different.

 

Lee found our note writing utterly bizarre. He says, why not just talk? He's right, really, even if it is hard. I've learned how, for the most part. I'm just lazy and so I revert.

 

 

 

 

1/10/7

 

Visit from Rachel today. She's on her way North where she knows a friend from high school on Virgon. It would have been years since they'd seen each other. I wonder what they'll talk about?

 

Rachel says, she has given up everything. She no longer has a directed study, or a directed practice. She just goes where she wants and she does what seems appropriate. I am proud of her. Lee calls her The Nomad. He's got a thing for nicknames, has Lee. It must be left over from being a pilot.

 

Caprica suggested, before she left, that I might bring the kids out west, for a holiday and a new experience. It would be alright, because Lee would stay with the farm, but trekking them over the mountains does seem a little bit insane. The walk was hard enough on me, and I am a fully grown man. Or, I sort of am. As much as anyone needs to be, anyway.

 

2/10/7

 

If we took it really slowly. And I carried Julia on my back during the climbing bits. Is it too dangerous? Lee says, no.

 

He might be right. There are a few aggressive creatures but I know how to avoid them. I'd like a holiday, actually.

 

Julia is frightened of Rachel. Not for any good reason, she's just still a bit clingy.

 

 

 

4/10/7

 

Floated the idea past Felix yesterday and he was immensely excited by it. He'd like to do some exploring. Lee tells him stories about when he travelled and Felix's head is completely turned. He has so much admiration for Lee, and, actually, it makes Lee a little bit uncomfortable sometimes, stories about heroes and all that.

 

I'd thought briefly about leaving them here, but I suppose I can't now, and besides, she wants to see them. Lee is fairly adamant. His words were, if I recall exactly, “go and make up with your frakking wife, moron.” Thank you, Captain Apollo!

 

 

 

 

15/10/7

 

Won't even make the pretence. I am too frakking tired. Just one note: Felix loves every minute of this. He's clearly exhausted, but I have seldom, if ever, seen him so happy.

 

Glad we brought seeds. I can live on the dried meat for two weeks (or, the one and a half after the other stuff runs out,) but that's an absolute bottom line.

 

 

 

 

19/10/7

 

Felix is Over It. Poor kid. Yes, Felix travelling means walking, and no, we're not there yet. He's jealous of Julia, but I can hardly carry both of them.

 

He perked up a little when we saw a heard of enormous Somethings in the distance while we were getting ready for sleep. We might have a day off tomorrow, I think. 

 

 

 

28/10/7

 

I am met by news, and it needs to be written.

 

Our bodies know each other too well. Nobody else could ever fill that gap, and I think that was how it happened. There's always a little dance, a little conversation, a big conversation beforehand. Sometimes we sleep in the same bed, or pile of furs, or whatever else, for a few nights before it happens. And then, someone will put a hand somewhere it shouldn't be, and that first kiss is always electric, no matter how expected it is, and then, baby makes three. Three little hybrids. Well, Felix is quite grown up these days, I suppose.

 

She told me once that my habitual selfishness and complete lack of discerning judgement of people came from the same root. I really did always see our two species as equivalent, because, functionally, they are. There are little differences, of course, but they are like facial expressions, transitory. Categorical, even.

 

She told me last night that she thinks I am no longer habitually selfish. She said that she'd learned to be, a little. To think about what she wanted, for the sake of wanting it, and trusting herself rather than having to make it a part of a teleology. It's good for her. And, I relate immensely to the desire to make a story out of one's actions. So, I think, we've come to the middle a little. In theory, this means we might be able to live together again, as husband and wife. I wanted to ask her, but I really don't want to push. She'd be safe here too, even if that's hard for me to accept under the circumstances. I feel a bit guilty, and a bit stupid, but she won't have it.

 

We were so busy thinking about US that we forgot what the parts can do when you put them together!


	10. A Big Project

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> False resolution, production of category.

30/10/7

 

Mrs. A. says that she related immensely to the sort of world we had before the fall. Not in terms of technology, or anything like that, but of, (her words, sort of) being far enough away from the world to really see it.

 

Caprica is glowing. She has aged, actually. Not in a bad way, just in a curious one. I don't know why it should have happened now. I suppose, her function having been fulfilled, she is beginning to break down, just as I am. I think I like the way she looks now even more. There are tiny wrinkles next to her eyes, two shallow lines beside her mouth, and her breasts are the slightest bit lower. I like that feeling, that slight, heavy resistance to my hand lifting them up. There's no facility for bathing out here, except a longish walk to the nearbyish lake, and so a thin grime covers us more or less always, but I like that too, or at least I don't not like it. She smells different when pregnant. I'd always thought I'd imagined it before, but it is actually true. I knew she was, when I hugged her, before she told me, and I was right. 

 

1/11/7

 

Been a bit stoned the last few days, so have only just registered the real ramifications of having another child with partially separated wife. Caprica said, she wanted, not necessarily to come home, but to be with me. Or, rather, she wanted me to be with her. We argued a bit. If it were just me, the decision would already have been made, but F. and J., and, of course, new person, perhaps should have a proper home. She says, why? I didn't know what to say. It just seems meaningful to me.

 

1/11/7

 

Did it really take me nine years to learn this? “It just seems meaningful to me” is a completely valid thing to say when talking to a person one loves and whom one is loved by. I said it, and stood behind it, and she kissed me on the mouth and said she might disagree but she couldn't argue with my reasoning. It's so hot out here, and Mrs. A. and I have been hitting the pipe pretty hard of an evening (well, not really, but a little of what's grown out here goes a long way) and it makes me feel more relaxed about everything than I possibly would be normally. We'd build another farm, another homestead, from the ground up. It seemed to me, as I was talking, as if this really could happen, and it wouldn't even be that hard (it would, obviously, be quite hard.) I worry about the travel and everything, and the work, but Caprica says she has a level on her own abilities and I trust her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

3/11/7

 

She fell asleep against me at the fire last night. Felix said, when can we go home? I said, well, Felix, I think we are already. He didn't seem too worried, so that's good.

 

Julia says, can I have a child too? A can of worms has been opened! Mrs. A. rolled her eyes. Babies keep you tied to men! But they also keep the species afloat, so it's not all bad. Mrs. A. didn't like that – so what? she said, waving her hand over me and everyone else who was there (and looking at us cock-eyed) to indicate our lack of worthiness. At this point, I rolled MY eyes, and then, Julia, I said, you won't have to make that decision for a very long time. But you will have a little brother or sister to play with. This seemed to please her. She's quite fond of the babies they have here, and since she's a girl, they have welcomed her into the childcare circle. 

 

 

 

 

6/11/7

 

Periods! I'm glad I know women who can handle that talk, when the time comes, because I know the science of it, but obviously not the full story. They wanted my help with a girl whose cramping is very severe, beyond the service of pain relief plants, or rather, Mrs. A. wanted my help and made everybody accept it. She seemed much too young. Mrs. A. says the average age is about seven or eight out here. That really does seem too young. People don't live that long, either. Thirty or so, maybe even less. It occurs to me to be upset about that, for my children, but it's not forgone, and anyway, it's a quality, not quantity. I'll be dead long before they go, anyway.

 

My assumption is that the girl has a little bleeding through the wall of her womb. Mrs. A. concurs. Not sure how to proceed with the medicine available. We didn't do terribly well with that even before the fall. Women's health was always a bit behind male. Not sure why. Possibly something to do with the bifurcation model. No need to asses the health of servants, after all, so long as they're practically functional, or there's another functional one instead. The only thing I know for this is a full hysterectomy but I'm certainly not fool enough to operate under these conditions. 

 

 

 

 

 

8/11/7

 

My poor darling is a bit pukey, and this time the smoking doesn't help as much as it did. They're good here, though. They know it, and they take care of her. My proximity to her they find confusing, because it's very much the women that deal with women's things: philosophy and childbirth, and medicine in general. She's had to explain to them that I am important to her, and so I am allowed to be with her while she's in this state, which they regard as quite spiritually important (I think.) It's all very complex – it's spiritual, but, given the tech, completely chosen. 

 

I'm aware that our two-gender-two-people love arrangement is strikingly strange here, as well as the fact that I take equal care of F. & J. Now I do, anyway. We had that same conversation, about how it takes work. That’s possibly a factor in her keeping it.

 

 

 

 

10/11/7

 

Julia is crotchety today! We spent a long time this morning drawing in the dust with sticks, and she got very involved, but it seemed to bother her. She kept saying, no! And I would say, what, honey? But for some reason she didn't think anything we drew was right. When I put her on my shoulders, she didn't get excited like she usually does, she just put her chin on the top of my head and sighed, as if she was tired of everything. Everything about Julia is very internal. I think she thinks a lot more than she says. Not like Felix, who seems to have no design to his exchanges. It's not as if he says everything, it's just that he is always either obviously thinking or talking, and does not seem at all subject to ennui. Partly I think this is because a lot of his early years were spent with Lee, and he has a bit of his unbridled genuineness. Things bother him only structurally, and only until he has thought them out.

 

Julia's not had any of her dinner and is a bit whiny. It might just be the change of venue, actually. She's not thrilled about the heat.

 

 

 

 

13/11/7

 

Went out to the lake today. Until we got out here, except for two river crossings, I hadn't swum since I was young. I do remember how, though, and the sensation is excellent, especially in this heat. The kids are both learning pretty well, though one of us tends to keep hold of Julia by putting our hands under her stomach. She does tend to protest this (loudly!) because she'd rather be independent, but she's so little, plump and sturdy as she is.

 

I think Caprica and I might be properly back together.  I hope it's not just because of the child.

 

14/11/7

 

It is, she says, and it isn't. It's just that she says I know her, and that she's content with me, and with us, and who we are now, at the end of the day, and she wants that to be every day, and forever. She said, “who else would I talk to?” and she called it a resting place. Sensation persists, just outside of my grasp. 

 

15/11/7

 

Mrs. A. asked after Lee today. I knew she missed him, however businesslike she pretends to be.

 

It would actually be a pretty different sort of life out here. That goes without saying, obviously.

 

I would have to live without:

  1. Cheese
  2. Cornmeal
  3. Soap



 

I think I would miss cheese quite badly.

 

 

 

19/11/7

 

She cut my hair this morning, because it was too long and a pain when I was working. I don't know what it looks like now, because there isn't a mirror, but she's the one who has to look at it so I suppose it doesn't matter. It's small, intimate acts like that that make all the difference in the world to me. I'm a grown up now, and I can live without her, but I'd rather live with her and that's the plain truth.

 

Took the kids out to look at the birds after. There are some good birds out here, as was demonstrated to me yesterday by a fellow who lives here. Caprica must have told him I would like it. The people here never bother them so they had no reason to fear us and some of them came quite close. Julia was spellbound. She held my hand very tightly and her eyes were very wide, and she asked, respectfully, if we were allowed to talk to them. She really is my daughter. I was just like that when I was little. I could watch these creatures for hours. 

 

 

 

 

23/11/7

 

Caprica's changed her mind and said she wants to go home. I wasn't aware we were still negotiating. Actually, I had forgotten all about it and was drifting along in a bit of a haze (more from the heat than from the companionable fireside smoking, though that too.) It's been a bit like a second (or first?) honeymoon, too, and that's some of it, which I hadn't wanted to disturb. It's a long trek, though, since we wouldn't use horses, obviously. I haven't even seen any out here, and they can't manage the climb.

 

24/11/7

 

Note to self: These are the new rules! Don't forget! Caprica, not I, says what she will and won't do while pregnant with mutual children because IT'S HER BODY that they're in, however mutual they are. If she says she can make the walk, then she can make the walk. Alright.

 

 

Be nice to see Lee again. Mrs. A. says she'll come with us. She put this forth very casually. She has a lot vested in that facade. I don't really know why. I think, sometimes, that she was surprised to be so hurt by him, to love him, personally, and so much, and that's hard to get over. I relate, actually. I think we're quite similar internally. Funny, seeing as we are complete opposites in all the obvious ways.

 

 

 

 

 

27/11/7

 

We were playing the confession game in bed last night. Have you ever? and et cetera and I have done most of it. She asked if I had ever had a sexy thought about Lee (she thinks he's good looking, though not, apparently, her type. I didn't ask any more questions about that, because I don't want to know.) I refused to answer and it ruined the game a bit.

 

At any rate, I have, once, but I think it was just one of those things the mind throws up from time to time, because it wasn't actually that sexy, just sort of embarrassing the next morning when we were having breakfast. She says I am funny about sexuality. She thinks everyone is bisexual, or could be (because, I assume, she is.) Not me, I'm afraid, and I know this without question, because it was very, very obvious to me on that fateful night with Felix Gaeta. But she's right when she says I shouldn't be so defensive about it. That's a bit frakked up. And it gives the kids the wrong idea. If one, or all of them were gay, they'd think I had some kind of opinion about it, which I don't. I did once, when I was a farmer's kid living in a social justice backwater. I don't now, though. I met gay people in college, obviously, and just living in Caprica City, but I think it was Felix Gaeta, and having to think about who he was, that fixed that for me truly, scientifically. Even though I had figured out how inaccurate it was, parts of one's upbringing just stay with one in such strange ways. It was more about me than them. Race might never have been a problem, but sexuality somehow goes right to the heart of who I am.

 

 

 

 

 

 

1/12/7

 

Mrs. A. has taught me from one end to the other of the pain killer spectrum. I am very glad to have that knowledge. It would be a wonderful thing to be able to give Caprica something while giving birth. She has managed the previous two like a champion.

 

 

 

2/12/7

 

After the other night, I keep thinking about that fellow that F.G. was seeing before he died. I wonder what happened to him? I'd like to talk to him sometime, if it were ever possible. I am almost certain that his surname was Hoshi. I only met him the one time, just after we got here, and before everyone scattered to the four winds. He seemed nice and honourable and just a little bit bumbly, though it didn't occur to me to register that much about him, notably even a first name, until Lee told me, years later, who he was. I wonder if he knew that Felix's thoughts were going the way they were. He must have been so lonely, even with a boyfriend, to get to that place, and to be lonely even when you're together with someone is very, very sad. He wasn't there when Felix was shot. I wonder if they'd broken up by then? 

 

He obviously had a thing for socially awkward men, Felix. I suppose he was one, really.

 

 

13/12/7

 

Happy birthday, Felix! Six years old today, and quite the young man.

 

 

14/12/7

 

She didn't get sick at all today, so I think we're off soon. I have a lot of feelings about all of this, but none of them are straightforward.

 

I just feel ready for an emotional rest, I suppose. I feel old. And I would like to be alone with her, for a little while. To make sure everything is really real, and not just because we have a family.

 

Alright, apparently we're leaving tomorrow.

 

 

 

 

 

22/12/7

 

The women have been making fun of me all day. It's not funny. I was born short. I can't help it.

 

 

 

 

1/1/8

 

What does it mean when we give things names? I keep thinking about those words, patriarchal and matriarchal, as if societies were always overseen by fathers and mothers, by discipline, power and comfort, as if every person were part of one big family, or had to be. Sharon has said, apparently, that there is tension in some quarters between Cylons and humans. Really? That as well? For frak's sake. I give up on everyone. They're all frakking useless.

 

Glad to see Karl and Sharon, though. Supposedly they've been worrying away about socialising Hera, so they've been staying at the farm with Lee and Kara for a week or so. I do wonder why they haven't had any other children. Possibly they can't. I don't know if that's something I can ask them. One of them might have told Lee, though. They were all pilots, and they all flew together in the face of death. They were Apollo, Helo and Athena and now they're just Lee, Karl and Sharon. They use each other's callsigns sometimes, to talk to each other. Nobody drinks here, but I suppose they do elsewhere. Pilots did quite a lot of drinking, I remember. I only joined them once or twice, because I was a bad drunk and it was obvious. It might have been alright if I was a violent drunk, because they were all heroes and heroes love hitting things, but being a pathetic, malicious one was the wrong kind of bad for the pilot's mess.  And also I was too good at cards because I can do odds in my head and I was a dick about it. And then everything else.

 

And now I am married again. Never been so happy with a status quo. They used to piss me off in general, mostly because I suspected them of being unstable. I have since completely resolved the desire to manipulate anything. Everything is as it should be and when it's not it still will be, because I will be, and am. That's my decision. It might have flaws, but it is utterly mine, and I am a competent adult person who makes decisions and sticks to them and is a full and proper grown up. And it only took me some forty plus years!

 

I frakking love sex, frankly, but I like another body in the bed too, even just to put my arms around or vice versa. I am a creature of comfort, I now realise. 

 

2/1/8

 

Lee and Mrs. have gone off for a few days. This is absolutely to the good. I'd like to lecture her about talking, and I actually think she'd take it from me, because I never take her front seriously these days. I'm not sure how to do that. She should, though. She's perfectly competent at communication, even if not all of it is spoken. I suspect her (in fact, I'm almost one hundred percent convinced) of using the fact that she's not got much speech as something to hide behind. She's a lot less brave than she pretends to be.

 

Other recent speculations include: speculating to Caprica about Karl and Sharon last night and she says that apparently they have tried and failed – Sharon told her, years ago, when they were having their big abortion summit. That's very sad. I'd like to say something about it, something comforting, but they'd have told me if they'd wanted me to know, and I suppose I shouldn't. I do wonder how they feel, being around Caprica now. I'll never know why we can have them, or why that one time we couldn't. I refuse to believe that crap about a certain kind of love being the dictate. That's just nonsense, and it's the sort of thing that should never be perpetrated, because it makes my wife hate herself, and I am angry at whatever god, designer or inventor of narrative that made her feel that way. I'm angry on Sharon's behalf too. And Karl's. And mine, actually, because I felt guilty too. As if all of it wasn't hard enough anyway, losing a child, to have to have all these other mysterious and non-specific judgements about oneself from an unseen eye. What happens is just what frakking happens and that's just the frakking truth.

 

I had a bit of a rant about all of this, and Caprica laughed and told me to watch out or I'd end up back in charge of a cult. I wish she wouldn't make that joke. Ideas run away from me and it's terrifying, especially since people are far too easily influenced by something that sounds vaguely logical. I'm glad she laughed, though.

 

 

 

 

 

5/1/8

 

Why on Brand New Earth am I still keeping a diary? Not occurred to me to think about this – I had just started again, for reasons unknown, and kept going. But nothing is without reason. Or, should be.

 

Habit, is one reason. I like writing, is the other. I just like writing. I suppose there doesn't have to be any other reason. Just so long as it isn't addictive, or whatever else. Nobody gets hurt.

 

This afternoon, while we were turning over the compost, I asked Caprica what would have happened if she had never miscarried with Saul Tigh, if the child, whom they would have called Liam apparently,  had been born. She said she didn't know, though she supposes they might have stayed together. It bothers me a little. It shouldn't, though. Cylon or not, I doubt she would have lasted with Saul. He would have gone back to Ellen eventually. And besides, he was too simple for her. She likes complexity.

 

I think it's because I still wonder if she loves me, really. Or if she just wanted children and I was there. And, writing that down, it becomes obvious to me that that is a load of frakking bollocks and I need to get over myself. I wonder if Lee would lend me the little violin again. Hilarious!

 

She's nice and bossomy too. That's a nice word, even if I did make it up. I'll write it again: bossomy. Not bad. I'm quite the linguist.

 

8/1/8

 

Felix's crush is so cute. He gets exponentially bossier when he's trying to impress someone. He's so completely my son. I keep hearing the word “obviously” coming out of his mouth and it is hilariously familiar. I'll have to stop using that word so often now that I know what it sounds like.  But I'm beyond glad that Hera has apparently forgotten all about me, even if it's not because she's about to return the affections of a six year old. She's fourteen or so now and getting closer to womanhood, and it's funny but I don't find that potential sexy at all. It's not as if I don't think about other women, because I do (though not Hera), but I think my sex clock is now set firmly to women who are more or less my own age. Anything else would be a pain in my ass, really. I don't want to have sex with anyone with whom the vulnerability and the emotion and the power is not completely equal. Actually, I don't want to have sex with anyone who isn't my wife.  Not any more, except in virtual reality land, when lonely.

 

She is very quiet, Hera. The Agathons want to move somewhere where there's people again, for her. Both Karl and Sharon say they're no longer concerned with politics or rightness or too much influence or anything, and they don't care what impact their presence might have. It's complex, that decision, but I respect it, because I care about Hera. Nothing can be done without thought, unfortunately, and none of those thoughts can be forgotten, even when one is chosen.

 

Makes me a little depressed. Kara has done a drawing for me, though, and it makes me feel better. It is, I believe, a picture of the sky, though it could be a pure abstract. I do wish we had some colours for her. I'm going to start playing around with some of the plants.

 

 

 

 

16/1/8

 

How did we get along without her? I envy her her ability to manage time.

 

 

26/1/8

 

The arrival of the family Adama coincided with the departure of the family Agathon. Don't know if we'll see the latter again. A bit sad about that.

 

Lee had his hand on Mrs.' ass during dinner. It was not subtle. Still, all is right with the world. 

 

 

 

10/2/8

 

Child is moving! I felt them kicking today, this morning, in bed, when I had my arm around her and was halfway between asleep and awake, the lazy part, where I was thinking about putting off waking up indefinitely. It was quite a surprise, and it woke her up with a start.

 

This period in a pregnancy is always tough on Caprica's heart, so I'm going to have to be really aware, and especially not let her go silent on me. The rule is, talking to each other. And, if it's good for me then it's good for her too. Remember to ask. It takes doing, not just knowing.

 

11/2/8

 

She says my angry tirade against god and nature all those nights ago actually made her feel better about this child. She agreed with me, apparently. She still worries, though, and that blame is hard to get past, however knowledgeable she is about it. I know that feeling, darling!

 

She said her instinct is to be silent, and to think, hard. That's true. She was in prison nearly as long as I was, and I had to write a seditious book to keep myself occupied. She just was. She wrote nothing. Amazing, really.

 

She says while she was in prison she gave an interview against me. She used the word “mendacity.” It seems forever ago. It was. Ten years, or thereabouts. Which means that we've known each other for sixteen years. It is a resting place, really. I suppose it always was. We were just too stupid to know it.

 

 

 

 

16/2/8

 

????

I had a bad dream, I think.

That's not good. What happened?

I don't remember. I just remember that it was frightening.

I'm sorry!

Some of it had to do with the Opera House.

Having visions, oh mystic one?

No.

Sure?

Yes.

Really?

No.

17/2/8

That was a funny conversation, yesterday. Afterwards, she found a grey hair on my chest. Really.

No more frakking visions, please, god. Leave my wife alone. Pretty sure it was just a paranoid dream, though. This period is always tough.

Just registered the writing of “always”. Just how many children are we going to have?

 

 

 

 

 

 

21/2/8

 

We have made:

vermillion

ochre

green

and sky blue.

 

That's a good little project so far. All the kids are right into it. We can make paper from bark. I need to soon anyway. It won't last forever. But, long enough.

 

22/1/8

 

This name is going to be hers. The last two were mine.

 

Ended up speaking to Mrs. A. It didn't happen on purpose, we were just working out back, and I said something about it. I forget what. It was something along the lines of, you're being deliberately non-communicative. She stopped working and gave me a look (she bares her teeth when she's annoyed. It's quite frightening to the uninitiated.) It was just anger – defensive anger – so I ignored it and stared her down. Then I did the shrug plus hands that means “why?”. She put her hand over her stomach (for her, that's what she does when I would put my hand over my heart.) Fair enough.

 

 

 

 

 

24/1/8

 

Sara, if it's a girl. That was her name, on Caprica, before she was Caprica. I had never forgotten it, I just thought it was rude to use it. She liked the name, apparently.

She gave me some letters, too. I put them in order. 

 

 

 

 

30/2/8

 

I think often these days about the inevitability of these things, of the eventual end, and of kinds of beginnings. Lee and I talk, still, about heroes, and heroes are about dominance and power and we sometimes think they are male things. They're not, really, though they are in certain ways too. I speculate about power, and the kind of reasons people have for taking it. I think one can give it, too, and that's just as powerful. We can talk about birth and death and female and male and whatever else we want but all of it, even right down to the way we talk is much to simple for what it really is.

 

I had remembered, when we got back, to ask Lee about Lt. Hoshi. Lee says he knows where he went after we got here, though obviously he doesn't know what's happened to him since. That would be a foolhardy quest, I am aware, but a part of me still entertains it. Felix Gaeta has stayed with me somehow, after all these years, and I wondered why for a while. I eventually solved that for myself – it was the recognition of having hurt him that started the change that I am still going through. It'd never occurred to me until after he'd lost his leg and I was going to go and see him, but I couldn't, because I knew, once I looked in, that the fact that he couldn't adjust to what had happened was at my door. I had made him incompetent with himself, essentially. Lee said, years ago, that he made his own decisions, and I know that is true, but he trusted me, and I broke that trust. We were all of us lonely and without  guidance, and he looked up to me and I let him down. It'd never occurred to me that by utter inaction I was doing action. Just by doing what I was doing, to mediate my own miserable existence, by not thinking about what impact that would have, I hurt him, and it was every bit as real as if I had done it deliberately. I didn't realise how much impact manipulation or emotional or ideological power could actually have, on an actual person. And I cared. He made me care. Whatever I did, or didn't do, the damage had been done. He didn't make me care, actually. He just was, like I was, and that had impact on me. What's the reason for that exchange?

 

1/3/8

 

Smoke on the horizon? Or just very low cloud?

 

Ideas have power, obviously. And that exchange is perhaps because we're just all of us scared.

 

Well, then. We're all people! We're all children too. These recognitions exist equally as both ridiculous and sublime. I've been reading back today, again, and I think I can identify a legitimate functional change in myself, and for the better. Alright.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4/3/8

 

Lee and company are making plans. It's good, I'm sure, but I feel funny. I'm so used to Lee, and I'm not sure I can live without him. Of course I can, obviously, but I don't want to. Mrs. A., too, whom recently I have come to realise is my actual friend. I never had a woman friend before!  And Kara, who is so much a part of my family I do not know what I would do if she were not there, at least occasionally. I love these people! They are my friends and my extended family and I love them! They are important to me, and they are part of a net that ties me to the world and makes me interested in it. Why? What is it for? Is it biological? Is it about proper and functional competition for resources or stability of networks, or something like that?

 

What has happened to me? Is this the result of this functional change? I think, if I met me, I would not entirely dislike myself and that sensation is like none I have ever had.

 

5/3/8

 

Laid everything out for Lee last night. Genuineness did not come naturally to me, and I had to learn it. Am having to learn it. It isn't done. A person isn't. A person is change, always, and that is an absolute bottom line. He said he found it very gratifying. They may build something nearby. That was the first time, ever, in my life, that I have asked someone to stay when it wasn't loaded. I worded it very poorly, as I recall, even ineptly, but it doesn't really matter because it made sense. It's funny that getting better at talking has sometimes meant getting worse at putting words together.

In fact, my wife has started to tease me for being so philosophical. She says, the biggest change in me is that there's no longer such a long period between my thinking something and saying it, as if I were less ashamed to have things come out of my mouth that weren't perfectly realised, or purposeful. The biggest change in her – and this is utterly, utterly bizarre, yet utterly true, and I realised it only today – is exactly the same. We are complete opposites, or, we were, but that opposition was founded on a fundamental scale of similarity. And, we're back to science! As if science were built on the same ideas as everything else! 

 

 

 

 

 

 

7/3/8

 

RECOGNITION OF THE BANAL by Dr. Gaius Baltar

 

Actions performed

 

  1. Waking up.
  2. Opening eyes.
  3. Seeing back of Caprica's head.
  4. Being able to smell her. 
  5. Kissing her head.
  6. Putting arm over her.
  7. Registering feeling of her hand on my arm. 
  8. Moving my arm when she stroked it against the grain of the hair.
  9. Listening to her say “Mpf!”



10.  Registering that this referred to my having an erection, which she could feel against her back.

11.  Attempting to discern whether or not usual morning erection could be transferred into useful kind.

12.  Running my hand over her stomach and bringing it to rest over her left tit.

13.  Cupping it a bit.

14.  Marvelling at the pleasantness of tits.

15.  Moving a finger over the nipple (gently.)

16.  Kissing the back of her neck.

17.  Being kissed by her, at the side of my mouth.

18.  Then on it, then her hand on my chest.

19.  Several kisses, which were broadly similar, but infinitely varied.

20.  Signature ass grab.

21.  Bringing her off. There were, in fact, several minute actions within that one too.

22.  Having sex with my wife, in strange new sideways fashion, one of her legs over mine. Bit physically awkward, but certainly functional.

23.  Coming inside her.

24.  Putting my head on her chest.

25.  Wanting to go back to sleep.

26.  Being pushed off.

27.  Saying “hey!”

28.  Hearing “I've got to go!”

29.  Recognition that Caprica is a little over five months pregnant. She has to go to the bathroom all the time.

30.  Scanning floor for pants while wife leaves room.

31.  Getting out of bed.

32.  Wiping pussy juice off Man Parts.

33.  Picking up pants.

34.  Putting on pants, one leg at a time.

35.  Vague recollection of, once upon a time in the distant past, having worn underwear.

36.  Recognition of own need for various bathroom functions.

37.  Leaving the bedroom. 

38.  Walking through rest of house.

39.  Passing wife and Mrs. A. on porch.

40.  Saying “morning.”

41.  Walking across wet grass.

42.  Entering outhouse.

43.  Taking a very long and satisfying piss (also, I presumably undid and re-did my pants on either side of this action, which is two additional actions, I suppose.)

44.  Leaving.

45.  Walking back across wet grass.

46.  Saying “morning” again.

47.  Leaving wet foot prints on porch.

48.  Back through house.

49.  Into bedroom.

50.  Picking a shirt up off the floor.

51.  And putting it on over my head. 

 

I haven't even got to having breakfast yet and that's more than fifty individual actions. How is it possible, then, after performing all of these actions, to remember them all and view them as equivalent? It clearly is not, as they clearly are not, and the broad determiner would presumably be frequency. So change, variation, is the thing? In theory, I suppose. Though I like the idea that there is no difference between them.

 

This is not terribly useful. I really should finish breakfast and go and get to the corn. Everyone is looking at me. Hello, everyone!

 

 

 

 

10/3/8

 

And we're back to politics, apparently. I've had to take my head out of its banal cloud to be a part of it, and now I find I'd rather talk about why and how rather than what. Lee wonders, really wonders, whether we (or, he, because I've made my decision) he is obligated to do some of this preservation work that we've talked about it.

 

 

We've already frakked it up, though. Why worry about it?

 

11/3/8

 

Because we can. And possibly should.

 

But, no. I really do think that if we're going to interact at all, it should be on entirely personal terms. That we learn only person to person. Or something. I don't really know. I'd just like to stay here and die, frankly. But I don't mean that in a depressing way.

 

 

 

 

13/3/8

 

Caprica a little bit down today. I worry. She says, she's just tired, and I have pushed her on it, but this is all she says, so I am forced to believe it. She does seem tired. She's mostly sat on the porch, occasionally napping. 

 

14/3/8

 

I will admit, actually, that I am very worried. I have a very, very bad feeling about this and I don't know where it's come from. Everything is fine, really. Lee and co have all but decided to build a separate house which is related to our same farm, which is ideal. Caprica is not demonstrably unhealthy – her bloods are fine, I ascertained this morning, and she has no symptomatic presentation of anything other than tiredness. Either I have missed something, or am simply paranoid. She's in bed, now, in the middle of the day. Kids are at table, doing their assigned “school work” and I am on dad duty.

 

 

 

 

 

 

17/3/8

 

She told me today that she was just a bit tired of living. I was just sitting there next to her, being quiet, but at that moment I registered a full body terror. I know nothing about her physiologically. I did, once, but now that she is ageing in a human way, all bets are off. I don't know how long she will live or what might potentially affect her now. I don't know if the physical process towards death with be even remotely the same as mine. She is very pale.

 

Being of sound mind and body, I hereby attest that I will be a willing servant to any god, cause or politic to whatever end if I can be the one who dies first, and in whatever fashion.

 

18/3/8

 

Still horribly anxious, but must revise my closing statement from yesterday. That is very selfish. My death would doubtless impact her equivalently, and I will not wish that on her.

 

She's not sick anyway. Just tired.

 

 

 

 

20/3/8

 

Idiot! She is iron deficient. I can't believe I missed that, it should have been obvious. It has been a long time since I have missed something from before the fall, but today I wish that I knew an optometrist because my eyesight is frakking awful. I shouldn't even need glasses to look in a microscope. That's the frakking point of a frakking microscope.

 

Sorry, my dearest darling, but you will have to start eating liver again. She's less than thrilled. Haven't been out hunting in ages, actually, since Lee and Mrs. bought back a couple. Perhaps she'd like to come?

 

24/3/8

 

She seems better if still tired. She didn't want to come out in the end, since she's just a bit big to make an easy transition between waiting and running. Lee and I went, and got three fresh. It was a bit excessive, but then, I am excessively paranoid.

 

I did pretty well with disclosure and was quite honest with Caprica about my death related anxiety. Of course, she has a comparative lack of knowledge regarding the ageing process of number model Cylons, as it was never supposed to happen, or at least they didn't know it was. She says she's not much phased by death, of herself, or of those close to her, even the children, even as she recognises it as unanswerably sad, and even if she feels differently about killing. She still believes in the other side, and also, she believes very strongly in the choice to give up resurrection. I don't, really, but sometimes I wish that I did.

 

Remember: Death is something over which I have no control. That's not all bad. 

 

25/3/8

 

Lee's rank was Major, not Captain. How funny that he'd never corrected me. I only remember it now because Caprica did, and told me.

 

For some reason, she and I have had the abortion discussion again. Both of our views have changed and changed back. We agreed, though, yesterday. The real answer is: it's very complicated, because a lot of contexts, and a lot of feelings are involved. Like everything, it is very complicated. I still wonder about what cultural ideas were passed on. The real thing is, it's only ever necessary to control these things once we move into a place of power. It's too complicated.

 

Bored. Of writing. I sometimes get to that point, when I feel like I've resolved something, but then I inevitability come back to it because nothing is ever resolved. Felix has started keeping a diary, sort of. I'd love to read it and have been sorely tempted once or twice, but won't, as it would be a severe breach of privacy. What could he possibly be writing about anyway? He's only six.

 

 

 

2/4/8

 

Sex with wife. This is, as I believe I have recorded before, my favourite bit, approximately six months, when her hormones go all sexy on me. It's remarkable, actually. She's like an animal. Nobody at this end is complaining.

 

Otherwise, started the harvest, which provides a bit of break from building the other house. Hard work is not much of a break from other hard work, though. Which is why I'm so pleased about the sex. I would be anyway, but that is a break, even if it makes me tried.

 

Written like news. I have nothing to say, and am saying it. Sometimes I wonder who I'm writing this TO. Not to myself any more, sometimes to Lee, or Felix, or Julia. It has no audience. It has no use, or meaning. I have, somewhere inside of me, still, a desire to make a story out of my life, or to make myself into a part of something that makes a consistent, logical sense. IT, OR I, NEVER WILL. So what? as Mrs. A would say. Sew frakking buttons, as my mother would have said, only without the F word. Good old Mrs. Baltar. She was useful for something, even if she was a crazy, religious, overly dutiful, set in her bloody ways country lass, and she only said that because usually that was what she would literally do in response to an intellectual question, sew a frakking button. It is still a useful phrase and the only comeback I have to the recent cynicism of my friend Mrs. A.

 

I suspect her of being pregnant. She's being cagey about it, the silly bitch. We'll have words later, I'm sure.

 

3/4/8

 

Finally over smoking! Was thinking about it this morning, and thought “yuck.”

 

Goodbye, cigarettes. Tempted to rebuild still as I might not be an alcoholic any more either, and I do miss drinking, but I see no reason to tempt fate, or to upset evening pipe smoking status quo. 

 

 

 

 

5/4/8

 

I win! Right about Mrs. A., apparently. She's being cagey precisely because I say ridiculous things like “I win!” (which I actually did say. What a jerk, upon reflection. I thought it was funny at the time. Written down, it clearly wasn't.) She wants me (and Lee, apparently) to be one hundred percent aware that we did not win and that despite loving Lee and liking Caprica and I, and enjoying being with all the children, that having another child did not necessarily mean that she had opted for a future of shared isolation at the Colonial Veterans Home. Fair enough, really. But, I'm glad she's here now. And I'm glad for Lee that she decided she wanted to have it. 

 

We had a very old mannish sort of talk last night, Lee and I. I think I finally understand about the Admiral. I wouldn't do the same thing, of course (ever) but I do understand why he did it. Lee and I were agreed on that. It was an old world way to act, something that makes sense to the idea of honour and rightness and a certain way of being a man, which means, I suppose, that it will be this world's way before long. There is some humour in that horror, which I suppose can be put down to a certain detachment that is part of being an old man with one's own family and farm and not much to do except wait for peaceful death. We are very lucky, really, and there's a little horror in that too. By whose narrative are we lucky? I come back to god, and I sincerely wonder what it has planned, and whether, if I could see it all written down, I would find cause to protest. Maybe it would all make good sense, if I could see it? Even if it made good sense it could still, in theory, be dysfunctional. 

 

He's a bit younger than me, is Lee. It'd never occurred to me to think of it before, but I did today because he's clearly much fitter. He would be anyway, even if we do both work, because he's built like a superhero and I am built like a scientist. He says he is forty-one, which makes me officially Old.

 

6/4/8

 

I miss Karl, a bit. Funny. I wonder what he is doing. Inevitably it is something Ethical.

 

Before they left, he said “everything you do, you should think about how it looks to history.” I've never forgotten it, even if I'd never take it as scroll. What an interesting man. 

 

 

 

 

 

16/4/8

 

Ethics! Lee and I speculated about that for a while, until it got stupid, because we really were frakking stoned. What's it all about, huh? I have no idea. Caprica says, if we're going to sit out on the porch smoking ourselves into oblivion every night then we can please try to wind it up by a reasonable hour so that everything stays on its normal schedule. Fair enough. We shouldn't be smoking so much anyway. I like getting stoned and I don't want to have to give it up because I can't control it. The lesson here is, the experience of one state is not an excuse to assume it completely. Or: everything in moderation. 

 

 

17/4/8

 

Happy birthday, Julia!

 

You, my dear, are an extremely interesting person. How you have come to be so self possessed in three such short years I do not know, but I am incredibly proud of you. Even if you did go missing from your own party and I found you in the lab, quietly looking through the microscope. Actually, possibly because of that, if I’m entirely honest.

 

I hope you had a nice day at the end of it all. Festivities of this nature still make you a little annoyed.

 

 

 

 

 

19/4/8

 

My wife is enormous. I noticed this this morning while she was getting out of bed. I'd just been sailing along, really, worrying about her a bit, but not about the child. Which possibly means I have not been paying enough attention to her, as it usually does. She gets a very sore lower back, which I have been attempting to address, but that's it, really. Paying more attention might be good. A few conversational gambits might not be a bad idea either. When I have these kinds of recognitions, I often wish she'd volunteer information more often, just so I wouldn't have to keep reminding myself to be thoughtful, but she's never going to be great at that, any more than I'll ever be great at simply being thoughtful without having to first think of it and recognise that it might be a good idea. So we negotiate as best we can, I suppose.

 

It's amazing, really, the whole process, even as it is utterly banal. It's one of the great mysteries of life that it can be both at the same time.

 

 

20/4/8

 

Baby is very active at night, apparently (I had not noticed because I tend to be sleeping like a log, because I am building a house.) She says, what I can do is stay awake and talk to her so she isn't bored. She's very tired, she says, and having to lie awake being frustrated about being tired and having nothing else to think about is awful. It sounds it. I'd go nuts. No wonder she said what she said about Lee and I.

 

That's a good example of the dialectical relationship between amazing and banal. Women have children, all the time, forever, all over the show. They always carry them and it is perfectly natural. But I am so profoundly grateful not to be the one that has to have it in me, when I see what she goes through. Some of the way people here organise makes a bit of sense to me when I think about that. I don't think it is my right, really, at all, to comment on how she might be or what she might do with it, because it is physically tied to her in a way that it isn't to me. But that isn't emotionally true, or at least not totally so, even if it is, because it's OUR child, and that's very important to me.

 

 

21/4/8

 

Good frakking god. We have a marathon runner in there, or something. No wonder she's exhausted. I am a bit too, now.

 

 

 

 

 

25/4/8

 

The trick is to recognise the amazing IN the banal, and vice versa.

 

There's really no difference between any of the things I've been writing about but the difference is infinite. So, I was writing about myself but really I'm writing about everything. Ph.D is short for Doctor of Philosophy, actually, but the only philosophy I studied was Information Technology. Minors in physics and chemistry. None of this fancy stuff. House nearly done. I'm very tired, which possibly is adding to the contemplative state.

 

Sometimes I have the horrifying wonder, did I have to do all the things that I did to know this?

 

26/4/8

 

Felix very angry with me for trying to read over his shoulder. It is a Secret Diary, after all. The wife told me off. I am suitably chastised. It was pretty rotten of me.

 

I don't hate it. We weren't living together for a year. Even being told off, I don't mind. I'm sure I'll get over that soon enough. Recognise the amazing in the banal, and vice versa, and et cetera. I am pretty happy, at the end of it all. And, every time that is written, there is a necessary sadness.

 

 

 

31/4/8

 

~~  
~~

~~sundown~~

~~in the well~~

 

~~reflected in~~

~~the end of days~~

~~water~~

 

It's the sensation that I am ageing at the same time as the world I am seeing. And that that is part of the world. It's like I saw that, when I was drawing water. Felt it. Knew, utterly, that it was true.

 

1/5/8

 

The wife tells me that I am a bit withdrawn. Hadn't noticed, but she says that Lee had mentioned it to her also. She looked a bit concerned. Is there a problem? I don't think so. 

 

Trying to think of it. There is a feeling of equivalence, and sometimes that's a problem for me, that's it's all equivalent and then I can't see anything, or can't decide what to do. I don't know. Hadn't been thinking about it, really. But it's not like that. It's a bit like that, but it's not that.

 

2/5/8

 

She thinks I need a big project. Really? I'm a lot more like her than I realised, maybe.

 

I asked her, when we were talking, if she was glad she came back. She said yes, and she really meant it and I could really tell. We made out for a bit. It's quiet in the house now, with just us. Not that we don't see everyone else every day, but at night, after dinner, and the kids are in bed, it's just us.

 

I am just never sure. I’m never sure and I feel so frakked up about everything sometimes, about who she is in relation to me, about who I am, in general, and I’m alright with myself now, really, but sometimes I think I’ll never be really alright. I think I do need her, and I think she needs me, and I think a little part of us, somewhere, made this happen on purpose so we would have an excuse to be together again, because it’s just easier, it’s easier for both of us.

 

She told me that she loved me and that she wanted this child and that she was tired of everything and she missed our children and that this was where she wanted to be. It was the kind of making out that was built first on a flurry of tiny kisses, kisses she gave me to guide me out of crying, and so many little stroking movements, because I lie every time I say I can live without her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4/5/8

 

She tells me it takes two, and she’s right. She was there too. We both did it. I try to remember that. We are both equally culpable, and I know her, and I know that. She said, yesterday, over and over again, that she was sorry, she was so sorry, and I don’t know for what, except for the fact that she left me, which she should have.

 

What I am afraid of is that inside me, still, is someone who is unlikeable and manipulative and cruel and who does things like knock up his wife so she can’t leave him because he is selfish and childish and doesn’t know how to assemble himself when he is alone. I didn’t do it on purpose. I really didn’t. I just wanted her and I wasn’t thinking about this part of it. I was only thinking about that moment, which I still remember, coming inside her, filling her up, not thinking any single thing except how much I wanted her, about how much of me was satisfied by the noise she made at that moment, a little gasp in my ear, the sound of her, as she registered that she was being filled. I remember I felt her fingernails digging into my ass, and her heels just under it, as if she was trying to pull me all the way into her. It wasn’t on purpose. I do remember that. So does she. She protested my assessment after every sentence, and I do believe her, because she is right, but I still have this fear, so I will have to say it again. I will have to ask her again, and I will have to tell myself again, because it will not mysteriously vanish, because I have hated myself for more than thirty years and it is going to take me a long time to unlearn that.

 

This is because nothing I do is ever done on purpose and that makes absolutely no impact upon its being as equally bad as something that was. And I couldn’t really tell. Even though I could, even though I believe her because she is not a liar, I couldn’t really. I’m just trying to hold on. Everybody dies and I just wish that they didn’t and all I can do is promise and promise and promise that I will not be who I was so that coming back will not be a mistake and that she isn’t only something being held on to.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

6/5/8

 

I had a listen for a second heartbeat today, because it occurred to me that it might be twins (!!) I could only hear one, but that doesn't mean there isn't a second. She does seem too big for seven months, judging by past experience, and it could explain the constant foetal activity. Could simply be excess fluid, though. I suppose we'll find out soon enough.

 

This is, by far, her least medically assessed pregnancy, I have just realised. Today was the first time it occurred to me to think of multiple births. The potential workload is a little daunting, especially for breastfeeding. It's hard enough when there's only one. Felix and Julia both, when they were newborns, wanted to be fed all the time. Multiply that by two and I imagine we will be very tired, especially her. Still, it isn't as if there is anything we can do about it.

 

Lee seems good. I think he likes being a dad more than anything, because he can't frak it up in the same way it's possible to frak up government. I know that feeling, Lee! Unfortunately, though, one can. Having said this, I was always a little bit jealous the way Lee seldom wavered in that. Even during his darkest periods last year, he was still a good dad to Kara.

 

 

 

 

 

9/5/8

 

I feel like my kids should be the project, if there's to be one. I think I've been a bit lazy on the parenting front since she's been back. Having to think constantly about other people is not one of my strengths, but it is unquestionably good for me, and it keeps me from floating away up my own ass. I have too much time to think while working, because I barely use my brain. I imagine it would be the same for her, but she has something to do brain work on, her big theory of god, the universe, and everything. I might ask if we can switch jobs for a bit, after we have our new person. And they are weaned and so forth. 

 

To this end I'm trying to make the tutorials interesting, because they are all a bit bored with where we are at the moment. It's too much theory and not enough action. I think I need to make it a lot more relevant, which means doing some proper science work rather than coasting on my old knowledge, because my knowledge about flora and fauna here, for example, that is not food is still less than comprehensive. It's alright, but it's not brilliant. Setting myself some scratch problems, as it were, but with nature. It can't just be feeling, it has to be thought as well. Everything in moderation. They have – or, Felix does, basic cell structure, it's just that he's not especially interested in it. He was much more interested in discussion of the ecosystem, because he likes animals. So does Julia, but in such a different way. Felix thinks of animals as just more, but different people. Julia tends to view them as somehow magical. Kara just likes looking. Her interest is about the same, whatever she is looking at. Nobody is as thrilled by genes as I was, though. Nobody ever is.

 

 

 

 

12/5/8

 

I was excited by genetics for the same reason I was excited by computers. Because genes are tiny little packages of thousands of yeses and nos. Thousands of tiny impulses, each one distinct, switched on or off, and at the end of it, the result of one of those minute decisions inside the gene could make the whole difference. Computers were like that too – binary coding is yes or no, really, but the net result is not. I suppose I have always been fascinated by the same thing – what does a decision, what does right or wrong (which, really, are just the human terms for what science calls yes and no) actually do? What does it mean? Because the consequences of the decision are far further reaching than the decision itself. The decision is made, genetically, or in code, and is then subject to durational time, which mediates the impact of that decision in unpredictable ways, as it is forced upon by other decisions, other uncountable switches. Relativity has a broader application than physical movement and space time. It also refers to the fact that things inevitably perceive each other, that forces relate.

 

I'd lost that. It's come back. Fully. That was the change, all those years ago, when I started looking for the little decision that would influence everything. I thought, if I found the right switch, it would fix everything.

 

I'm almost sure I've written about it before, though I don't remember when. I think shortly after Felix was born, when I started doing math problems again. I wondered what the thing was that I had lost, and I thought it was interest in science in general, or interest in the world. And that was sort of true, but it wasn't all of it, because I can only ever have parts of a thought at any one time. Even this won't be the whole thing. 

 

 

13/5/8

 

I remember Lee saying once that our technology moved faster than our emotion, which I thought was stupid because technology is related to our emotion, but in the case of me and sex, that was literally true. I was extremely skillful long before I knew what I was doing. That comes from a root, though. It comes from the fact that I was severed from everything and didn't see the point of the emotional part. I didn't think I had any. I actually thought I was above emotion, that I was a man of pure reason. Upon reflection, that's hilarious. It's tragic, but it's hilarious. If I met someone now who hated their family as much as I did then, I'd want to ask questions. I pretended it was academic disdain. Some people did ask questions, actually, one or two “girlfriends”, and, of course, my wife, who then made her own decisions about it all, but I tended to make them very sorry for having asked.

 

 

 

 

 

16/5/8

 

Brilliant. We're going to measure this planet. That's what we're going to do. I know I have the math, or can get there. We just need the measurements. We'd have to take a couple of trips (four, if I'm not totally wrong.) That's fantastic!  And I'd really like to know! I don't even know why!

 

But? Should I start small? We'd be using geometry (mostly) and so I think, should they know things like where pi comes from, WHY it makes sense? Maybe that should come first?  Volumes I'd want too. They should have volumes, because we'd be working in three dimensions. All they have so far is addition and square roots and things (at their various levels – Julia being the youngest, obviously, is least educated,) but not physics or really any kind of physical math. They are all too young for calculus, though Felix is close (he can do a simple logic problem, he just gets confused when Mrs. Brown with a White Hat is replaced by x and y.) But basic geometry? Almost certainly. Over the next year, we will work on geometry, and then we will go and measure the Brand New Earth. We could go as a family potentially, though we'd be travelling with a very young child (or two very young children!) Plenty of time to talk about it over the next year, I suppose.

 

In the meantime, we're doing fluid dynamics in the creek. It takes a little walk, but it's worth it. I'm glad we have the colours because it's a lot easier to demonstrate the difference between laminar and turbulent flows with a stream of pigment. There's the patterns in the gravels, of course, but it's better if you can see both – the effect, and the thing that produces it. I wrote the differential in the dirt with a stick, but that's not really the important part. The important part is that they understand that is is a spectrum, and that tiny variations within it produce wildly variant effects. At this point a differential equation is mostly for my own amusement, to see if I can still remember.

 

Also:

Finish up with the plants.

Istocacy? Possibly a bit hard for now. But buoyancy certainly is, or can be, fairly basic.

Basic astronomy. Ideal gas law and et cetera is too much, but a broad treatment is unlikely to hurt.

We'll cross the gravity bridge when we come to it, I suppose.

 

 

 

 

 

 

20/5/8

 

Spent the last few days scribbling out geometric formulas in between work so had not done any writing, but I had an interesting conversation with Mrs. A. She's a very complicated person, or, rather, even if she were the most simple person in the world, her circumstances are so complicated that she can't help but be complicated, especially since she is smart enough to recognise how complicated they are. We are so amazingly similar. She never fit in, she said, anywhere.  But her people – people in general – matter to her. That part we're different about, but that first part, that strange, uncomfortable isolation, we might as well be twins.

 

We were talking about her child. What she says is, it makes no difference. Nothing does, to anything. It makes an individual difference, and that's all. She was born knowing this, I suppose. Certainly, it's never seemed to bother her while I've known her. She says she understood the relevance of this after I tried to make out with her, all those years ago. She said, she knew all of it was about Lee and I, it was all between us, and none of it was about her. She's right, and that was appallingly disrespectful of me, even if it was unconscious. It was shortly after that, she “says”, that she understood what was coming, what our kind of men were. But parts weren't all bad. Parts she could learn from.

 

I am still in awe. 

 

21/5/8

 

Caprica tells me that she too was in awe of that reasoning. It had a lot to do with her leaving, she says. She says, thinking about the fact that being made she had been made a woman was more personal thinking than she'd ever had to do before.

 

She said, and this was hard to hear, but still true, that along with Lee's heroism, it was my being, my way of thinking, that brought it here too. I knew this already, of course. I just don't like thinking about it. I saw the beginning of time, and we separated, as if these qualities which are conflated, sometimes falsely and sometimes accurately, as if male and female were simply the world performing a dialectical analysis on itself.

 

What the frak did I just write? It made total sense to me as I was writing it, but it's gone already. I need a quiet smoke and a cup of tea, I think. I hope Lee is in the same mood as me, because if I have any more philosophy tonight I might go a bit melancholy. After dinner, which I said I'd make. Caprica keeps trying to do it, but she's eight months pregnant and I wish she'd at least pretend to relax.

 

Holy frak! She just went off at me like I've never heard. Alright then. I suppose I'll just stay here. Writing. Writing. Writing. Terribly occupied. Very busy. No arguments here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

25/5/8

 

My wife has recently become the worlds' most irritable bitch. For everyone's sake I hope she drops soon, especially for F. & J.

 

It's just a bit much for her and she's so tired and I do understand, and so am trying to be sympathetic, but it's a bit hard when everything one does is wrong. I'm starting to suspect that the best idea would be to just leave her alone, but I wonder if that's just me thinking that it might be more pleasant for ME to just leave her alone. It's different this time. There's no other reason, there's just child. Not redemption and not replacement.

 

 

26/5/8

 

I will not allow myself to be drawn into an exchange. She is not really angry at me. She is simply very, very tired and very sore, because she has been growing a person inside her.

 

I will not say anything mean in response, no matter what she says to me. I will be unfailingly nice and dutiful, and not a complete asshole.

 

It is frakking tempting to be a complete asshole! She's being really awful! Even Lee was a bit pressed to not get into a fight with her. I could see him breathing through his nose.

 

 

 

 

 

28/5/8

 

Best get over it. It is the worst of all possible times for a grievance of this nature.

 

She still isn’t sleeping terribly well, and I suspect it would go very badly.

 

 

29/5/8

 

Godsdamn impossible, horrible frakking disaster. All I had to do was keep my mouth shut.

 

At least I graciously stormed out of the room before it got bad. I’m not proud of that but I didn’t know what else to say. I still don’t. She’s so arrogant sometimes. Infuriating. Even in madness, she is calm, and cool, and one hundred percent right about everything. She won’t frakking shut up about it and I don’t know what else she wants.

 

 

 

 

30/5/8

 

I ought to draw her a little chart. It would go: tired --> pukey --> enthusiastic --> horny --> tired --> anxious --> really irritable --> big emotional explosion --> tears --> baby. It is the same every time.

 

It happened today because she was being irritable at the kids and I told her to stop it, because it was a bit much and they were both really upset and they had no idea what they'd done wrong (nothing), and she had a full scale meltdown at me and then she cried. So we had a bit of a cuddle and everything is much better. She is asleep now (finally!) napping on the couch. Lee and co have taken the kids out for the day, which is absolutely to the good.

 

My latest revelation is that I think that is her pattern all the time, sort of. She gets emotional like this because of all sorts of things, and while pregnant it tends to be obviously repressed and then explode, whereas normally, when she isn't beset by hormonal extreme, she'd be doing the same thing only hiding it better. I might ask her about that one day. Not this day, however, as she is really not up to it. Today is for cups of tea and my being very, very nice to her and offering conversational topics which do not involve evaluating her shortcomings, however tempted I am to level the playing field after the last week of unbridled bitchiness (I am quite tempted.)

 

Not long now, I think, going by the chart.

 

 

 

 

4/6/8

 

Oh, the physical relation of bodies in space. How do I love thee? Let me calculate the ways...

 

 1 

50 (360˚)

 

 Θ     =  d 

360˚     c

 

Frakking bullseye!

 

 

10/6/8

 

I keep not thinking about this. I think we've really given up. I haven't forgotten what Caprica said about Lee and I, that we were two halves of what it is about men in the way the worlds were, and what they will be. I'm afraid I will tip over, as if it is already ruined.

 

The mistake has been made. And the decisions are the best I can do. I regret that, though, the same as I regret everything else. Lee has been quiet on the subject lately. For him, the matter is resolved. I doubt it ever will be, for me.

 

 

 

 

12/6/8

 

Nice day with Julia at work. I think she finds farming quite difficult to focus on, but she is determined to learn.

 

She’s such a funny little thing – she won’t let me pick her up until she’s too tired to refuse. It’s as if she’d rather be my colleague than my daughter.

 

 

 

 

16/6/8

 

Wrong about Lee. After last night I actually suspect him of working on something, but if so, he won’t say what it is. Probably because he knows what I’d say about it. That there’s no good that can come of more intervention on the part of two old white men.

 

And women, actually. I feel studied by her at times. I imagine the sensation carries.

 

 

17/6/8

 

I am angry with her. I am angry that she left.

 

 

 

19/6/8

 

Realised today that milking is actually my favourite part of my work day. Possibly because I do it first thing, and possibly because I'm alone and I get a little time to organise my thoughts. I keep meaning to give it over to Felix and I should really, but I'm finding it hard to give up. Perhaps this recording, this recognition, is the moment it becomes possible? I did make the decision, actually. I just made it. It is time to accept that not everything in this world will be controlled by me.

 

He can do it, Felix. His unbridled affection was a bit much for the goat at first but they've worked out a decent compromise. I'm very aware sometimes that the way Felix is, the way he

 

 

20/6/8

 

Happy birthday to both Saul and Sara!

 

Holy motherfrakking god. I'm sorry I ever protested the method. We should use that, and withdrawl as well. Or, possibly, we should just avoid having sex ever again, in case we inadvertently populate this entire frakking planet with our hybrid progeny. It almost seems possible.

 

I'm only joking, kids. I'm very, very glad you're here. Welcome.

 

I do mean to get down to it and do the full record but I'm too tired to use my memory, as strange as that sounds. I am sorry, kids. I will get to it, I promise. Nothing unusual happened, but it's nice to know anyway.

 

You are amazing banalities in a profoundly unstable world, and a story has begun now that will only end at your death. I realise that now about history, mine, yours, and this history here. This story ends only at my death or the full failure of my eyesight, whichever comes first. Unless it isn't a story. Tired! And, grateful for the commune. Two babies is a lot of babies! You look exactly the same. If you weren't different sexes I'd be completely at sea. 


End file.
